Crossed Wires
by ErtheChilde
Summary: The TARDIS gets caught in a barrier that forces people to rely on their mothertongue, leaving the Doctor and Rose unable to communicate. The Doctor leaves the TARDIS to fix the problem but goes missing. Rose braves the mysterious moon to find him, and the two of them end up caught in the clutches of a xenophobic government that punishes off-worlders gruesomely. [TSL Timestamp 06]
1. Chapter One

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

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><p><strong>Summary:<strong>

When the TARDIS gets caught in a barrier that forces people to rely on their mothertongue, the Doctor and Rose are left unable to communicate. After landing at the location where the barrier originates, the Doctor leaves the TARDIS intending to fix the problem - only to go missing. Rose braves the mysterious moon to find him - and ends up caught up in the movement to overthrow a xenophobic government.

**Disclaimer:**

This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright the BBC. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author's own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books and graphic novels, are the sole creation of ErtheChilde and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. There may or may not be a curse in your future as well, so be warned. Remembered all things come in threes, good and bad. Plagiarizing is considered bad.

**Warning:**

_Spoilers_ : If it existed in any form of Doctor Who canon, whether television, novelization or graphic novel, it's probably going to be mentioned in here. That includes up to and including 12th/13th/Whatever Doctor Adventures.

_No Beta_ : I am beta-less at the mo', so any mistakes are my own. I edit as I go, though, so it shouldn't be too bad.

_Canadian-Writing-British:_As a Canadian, I'm not all-knowing when it comes to British idioms, sayings or slang. I write what sounds right to my ears and when it doubt, I look things up on the Internet, so I might not always get it right. If I'm way off about something, please drop me a line and I'll correct it.

**AN**: The first part of this fic sprung from the minor pet-peeve I have with a lot of fics which have Rose having an instant connection with the TARDIS, as though she's instantly more special than every other companion that came before her…and disregard her total shock and disbelief about the TARDIS from the first episode. I love Rose, but part of her allure is that she was completely ordinary until meeting the Doctor – and ordinary people would find a living ship a bit weird. For the TARDIS part, I think she always had a soft-spot for Rose and may have tried to communicate with her, but until Bad Wolf, Rose was probably not aware of it. Anyhow. That's my little rant.

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><p><strong>ONE<strong>

As the best friend and companion of a time-travelling alien, Rose Tyler had been starting to believe that nothing could ever truly surprise her anymore.

She had seen alien prison systems and mind-control masks, sipped cocoa under purple skies and helped saved a room full of people from invisible aliens. Every day she experienced the amazing and the impossible, and though it was startling and unexpected most days, she was never really surprised any more.

You just sort of expected the unexpected when you lived with the Doctor.

At least, that's what she had told herself until the morning she walked in on him whispering sweet nothings to the glowing green column of the TARDIS console.

The Doctors ears, Rose found out just then, could turn a very fetching shade of pink.

He scrambled to full height from where he'd been crouched over the TARDIS console watching the Time Rotor move up and down and coaxing it with praises like "magnificent", "that's a girl" and "sexy".

'I'm not interrupting anything, am I?' she asked innocently, using all of her control not to burst into laughter as he tucked his hands under his armpits and tried to look casual.

'Just making sure one of the parts I gave her doesn't muck up the translation circuit,' he answered nonchalantly. 'It's not the exact proper part, but seeing as how I can't get those anymore…anyhow, I had to use a substitute. Wouldn't do if she were allergic to it or something.'

'Yeah, figured it was something like that,' Rose nodded. Then, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, she prompted, 'And the "sexy" part?'

If possible, his ears turned even darker, and he grimaced at her.

'You're not supposed to be lurking about the TARDIS!' he accused, deflecting as usually happened when he was embarrassed. 'If you were to startle me in the middle of some delicate procedure, like soldering the dimensional stabilizers or…or…reversing the polarity of the neutron flow, you might end us up in some kind of pocket dimension filled with nothing but shrimp or – !'

'Keep your shirt on,' Rose interrupted (though the rather immature, still slightly boy-crazy part of her wouldn't be bothered if he didn't). 'I wasn't lurking about – I was just coming in here to say good morning.'

'There's no such thing as "morning" on the TARDIS,' he grumped. 'Or night. Time doesn't exist on the TARDIS. We could be in here for days or even months, and outside only seconds would've passed. Or centuries, depending on the mood she's in.'

'And to keep the ship in a good mood, you call her "sexy",' Rose finished for him and held out a cup of tea for him. It had become a habit of hers to bring him a cup after she had her breakfast. He'd complain about liquids and wiring, but he always accepted it.

He was too busy scowling at her this time to lecture her, but he took the cup all-the-same and heaved himself into the jumpseat.

Rose shook her head affectionately.

She was still surprised by the matter-of-fact way he spoke to and about the TARDIS, as if it was alive – in fact, he constantly insisted that it was alive and that "she" liked Rose.

'How d'you figure that?' Rose had asked a few days into their travelling.

'You've seen how big it is in here – ever gotten lost?'

'No.'

'Well, there you are. She likes you. If she didn't, you could have gone in there and not come out for another month. It's happened before.'

'Oh, now you tell me!'

Weird or not, though, it cheered her to think that the ship the Doctor loved so much seemed to like her. It made her feel welcome and gave her the sense that she could share something with him despite his alien nature.

'So she's not allergic, then?' Rose asked now, leaning on the railing.

'Doesn't look like it – trust me, if she were she'd been right quick in letting me know.'

'It's almost as if you expect her to talk back,' she teased.

'Oi! She does talk back,' he retorted defensively.

'What, with words?' Rose cocked her head to one side, a bit surprised at that. She had never heard the TARDIS talk, even if there were occasional moments when she thought the ever-present hum sounded like laughter.

'No, not with words – she's not constructed that way. Exists all across space and time, the TARDIS does. Try getting a living being as vast as that to try to concentrate all her focus on one conversation? She'd likely render an entire solar system brain dead,' he explained. 'It's more abstract – direct telepathic input to the communication centres in the brain, and then only for higher beings. Sometimes low-level telepaths are able to pick up on it, but they wouldn't be able to understand her as well as me.'

'That's so weird…'

'Why's it weird? Don't need words to communicate – what, never seen someone using sign language?'

'Yeah, but that…you know, using hands and stuff,' Rose shrugged, still unable to quite articulate to the Doctor her occasionally uneasiness when it came to telepathy. 'So, what, there's a problem and the ship sort of…beams it into your brain…and you go looking for the TARDIS operators manual or something?'

'Something like that, though I've no need for a manual,' he postulated. 'Brilliant on my own, thanks, and the instruction guide that came with this model was absolute rubbish. Chucked it into a supernova near the Andali Nebula.'

'That explains so much about your driving,' Rose told him, craning her head and nodding at the console. 'S'that what these are for?'

'What "what" are for?'

She reached for one of the countless post-it notes that were stuck on the console and indicated the hastily scribbled Gallifreyan script. 'These here, with the pictures. Are they some sort of schematic or diagram to remind you of where everything goes?'

In an instant, the light-hearted atmosphere of their bantering ebbed, and it felt like the air around her dropped a few degrees. There was a flicker of grief across the Doctor's face, and she realized she had said the wrong thing.

· ΘΣ ·

The Doctor cursed himself for letting his guard down.

For the past weeks, he had made a point of whisking Rose from place to place, keeping her either too occupied with adventure or too tired out to pry into his past. He had managed an admirable job of keeping questions and conversation away from the more painful subjects of the Time War, and only revealed the vaguest details about his people.

Of course, his plan to just stall and act evasively presupposed a companion who left things alone when she was told. Which Rose Tyler was definitely not.

'No,' he said shortly, ignoring the familiar and renewed throb of grief flitting through him.

'Then what are they?' Rose was asking, tentative like she knew she'd accidentally asked something that caused him hurt. ''Cos they're everywhere.'

It was on the tip of his tongue to brush it off, to say they were no more than scribbles produced by a bored mind when he was thinking. But just then, Rose met his gaze with a look of such innocent curiosity, as well as something like an apology for being unintentionally tactless, and he felt that explanation disintegrate.

He hadn't yet had to lie to her about anything, preferring to reveal only basic or vague information to her when she stumbled onto the topic of his past and the myriad circumstances that had brought him to meet her. Anything that related to Gallifrey was obviously hardest, and though he was tempted to ignore those types of inquiries, or lie, he wasn't about to start by reducing his native tongue to a falsehood.

'They're words,' he finally managed.

'Words? Like – oh. From your language.'

'Yes.'

Rose was quiet for several seconds, considering this new piece of information. He waited for her to either look at him with pity or try to delve deeper the way she sometimes did when she thought he might need to talk about something to feel better.

For the briefest moment something flickered in her eyes, but it was gone too soon to be given a name and instead she asked, 'So how comes the TARDIS doesn't translate it? Usually when I see stuff in another language, I see it in English.'

He almost laughed at the way she deftly steered the conversation away from the path that would have required addressing his feelings and into a more academic vein. She knew how much he enjoyed teaching her things and was giving him an out for the conversation she hadn't meant to steer them into.

'No point in translating your own language, is there?' he offered airily, patting the TARDIS console. 'It's one of the only languages she won't.'

'S'ppose that makes sense,' Rose admitted, tracing the swirling, spherical symbols on one of the notes closest to her with an air of fascination. 'What do they say?'

'Nothing important. Just reminders. "Turn three quarters clockwise", "pull up", "don't take that left at Albuquerque"…'

She considered the circular glyphs with the same earnest thoughtfulness that usually graced her features when he offered up these little parts of himself. 'Can you teach me?'

'No.'

The immediacy and finality in his tone obviously jarred her, because she straightened up and gaped at him.

'Why not?'

'Because you can't read it.'

Hurt replaced confusion. ''Right. Since I'm just an ape and I couldn't possibly do something that an almighty Time Lord can do.'

'You said it, not me.'

'Oi!'

'S'not an insult, it's just fact. You can't read it.'

'Cos you won't teach me!'

'No, cos you literally _can't_,' he'd told her flatly. 'Not unless you can read in five dimensions.'

'Five dimensions? How's a language got five dimensions?'

'It doesn't. But a script can have when the species that created it has more than five senses,' he'd told her airily. 'Oh, sure, I could teach you all the characters, and if you studied a few years you'd even be able to recognize some of 'em. But you'd never understand the meanings, because there're different nuances based on anything from rotation of individual characters, order in which a character was drawn and even spatial.' He'd forced a grin. 'Be easier for a dog to calculate pi to the trillionth place.'

Her anger deflated as quickly as it had come, tempered by the logical explanation. Apparently now that it had nothing to do with her intelligence but the biological make-up that she couldn't help, she could be satisfied with that explanation.

Deciding it was high time to change the subject, the Doctor straightened up and offered her a tense smile. 'So, where d'you want to go today?

She didn't reply right away, instead continued to stare at the Gallifreyan script as though if she tried hard enough she might be able to decipher it.

He had had other companions interested in his language before, but mostly it was out of detached curiosity that was quickly dispelled with longwinded explanations and a deconstruction of the language's rather dry system of tenses and cases. With Rose, though, he could see that it was yet another one of her attempts to learn about his past and to better understand him.

This too was not new, companions wanting to understand him better. He had always managed to ignore such attempts, maintaining a distance and secure knowledge that no one could ever _know_ him, even before he was the last of his kind left. Sometimes, though, when Rose got that thoughtful look on her face, he felt a brief spark of terror and excitement that if she put her mind to it, she might just manage it.

After an unnerving amount of silence, Rose finally tore her eyes away from the post-its on the console and returned his smile.

'Designated driver's choice?' she suggested lightly.

He wasn't sure that was a good idea.

His latest choice had landed them on a planet had nearly gotten them both trapped in a hive-mind interface – all because he'd wanted to show her what High Tea was like on the other side of the galaxy.

The whole business had put him in a bit of a mood.

Instead of taking an hour to sleep last night, he'd been up and awake, his thoughts dark.

It seemed no matter where he wandered, he was always to be faced with a reminder of his home world.

He was no stranger to so-called "benevolent" leaders trying to prolong their life and influence at the expense of everything and everyone around them. Still, his encounter with the unit known as Makassar had reminded him more of Rassilon than he was comfortable.

One of the Doctor's own greatest fears was that one day he would become like that – someone so convinced that his life was so vital he needed to avoid death at the cost of someone else. At the cost of millions of someone-elses. There was more reason for it now, after all.

He was the last survivor, the only remnant of Gallifrey. Exactly what might he do in order to keep its memory alive just a little longer?

His gaze settled on the hook-up for the chameleon arch.

Maybe it would be better just to forget, then. He could probably find a way to block the memories, even if it meant sacrificing certain parts of himself. Or all of him. He'd be operating at less than full capacity and it would be dangerous, but it might be the best option.

'Doctor?' Rose encouraged, and he realized he hadn't answered her suggestion.

He pasted a smile on. 'Mentioned the Andali Nebula, didn't I? We should visit the planet Bob.'

'There's a_ planet_ named _Bob_?' Rose guffawed. 'Oh, yeah, this I have to –'

There was a sudden minor explosion from beneath one of the system towers. Sparks and smoke began to hiss at him, and the Doctor swore, hurrying to contain the damage.

It looked like the TARDIS was allergic to the part after all.

Rose was asking questions, but he wasn't listening as he quickly opened one of the gratings and used the sonic to douse the flame. Then he began looking for any loose wires or connections which might account for the problem – because he _really_ didn't want to have to track down another one of these things, it'd been a right pain the first time –!

Little puffs of smoke having cleared, he looked around the time rotor and caught sight of Rose hovering there. He opened his mouth to tell her everything was alright, and felt his hearts constrict as the familiar, lyrical language of his people filled the air.

It was the first time since the war since he'd managed more than a habitual curse.

Rose's head whipped up and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

'Epdups?' she whispered. 'Xbt uibu zpv?'

Oh, this could not be good.


	2. Chapter Two

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>TWO<strong>

Fighting the niggling suspicion about what was going on, the Doctor slowly asked Rose to repeat herself.

Even before her eyes widened in shock, he knew something was wrong. Although he had thought and formulated the question in English – he had been automatically thinking in the language for centuries now, ever since he started making landing in London a habit – it had come out in Gallifreyan.

'Ht uibu…ht uibu zpv…ubmljoh?' Rose wondered, the cadence of her speech telling him it was a question. She didn't seem surprised by the odd collection of sounds that issued from her lips, so obviously she was still speaking her native tongue. 'Epdups, i uipvhiu zpv ejeo'u mjlf up tqfbl zpvs mbohvbhf?'

He frowned, trying to parse any bit of meaning from the seemingly unrelated syllables, but came up with nothing.

'Epdups, xibu't xspoh? Xibu't hpjoh po?!'

She obviously realized that he couldn't understand what she was saying, because her eyes became even wider and her breathing started to increase with agitation.

'Zpv dbo ifbs nf, uipvhi, sjhiu?' she demanded, and then seemed to switch tracks, looking a bit reproachful. 'Xibu bn tbzjoh, pcwjpvtmz zpv dbo ifbs nf, zpv'wf hpu uibu mppl po zpvs gbdf mjlf j'wf tbje tpnfuijoh tuvqje. Tp jt ju kvtu nf? Ibwf zpv tupqqfe voefstuboejoh nf? Xiz dbo'u j voefstuboe zpv? Ep zpv bmxbzt ubml up nf ho zpvs mbohvbhf?' she asked, her speech getting quicker and more anxious with every syllabus. 'Op, xbju, zpv tbje uif ubsejt epfto'u usbotmbuf…tp zpv nvtu bmxbzt cf ubmljoh fohmjti xjui nf. Tp xiz bsfo'u zpv ubmljoh fohmjti sjhiu opx?'

She was beginning to panic and the rush of unfamiliar words was giving him a tension headache, and so he held up a hand in an effort to calm her down while he thought through the problem.

_I'm still thinking in English and she's still speaking English, but for some reason we can't understand each other, _he mused. It was like something was mucking with the part of their brains that dealt with comprehension.

Seeing as it had to do with language receptors, he knew the problem was likely down to the translation circuits. Still, just to be sure, he switched on the fault locator and ran a basic check in order to make sure while Rose lingered uncertainly in the background.

As expected, there was a wire that had come loose and he grinned at the sight of it. Brandishing the sonic, he waggled his eyebrows at Rose to show everything was about to be fixed – he earned a nervous laugh at that – he went to work, reattaching it to the circuit it had detached itself from.

'Ht uibu ju?' Rose asked tentatively, and then made a face. 'Hvftt opu…'

The Doctor glowered at the motherboard when it turned out he hadn't fixed anything. There was no reason for the translation circuits to not be fixed, and the only reason he could think of to explain it was the TARDIS deciding to meddle – maybe she'd decided she wasn't impressed with his deflecting earlier.

Which was none of her business, really.

He began to tell her so, in very loud and angry diatribe of very precise and mathematically perfect Gallifreyn, earning a few shocks off the console for his efforts.

He was just reaching for the mallet to send her a message with a quick bit of percussive maintenance, just to remind her who was the pilot in this relationship, when he felt a small hand on his shoulder.

'Epdups?'

Rose had said that word a few times now, and though he still couldn't understand the logic behind her words, he figured out she must be talking to him.

Glancing up he saw that she was now pointing at something on the console.

A light was blinking on the frequency detector there.

_Ah_, he thought as he drew closer to it, wincing mentally. He offered up a mental apology.

The TARDIS whirred in such a way that if she had had an actual language, he had no doubt it would be a rather terse suggestion to do something that was anatomically impossible for his species.

It looked like the TARDIS had somehow become trapped in what appeared to be a language field of some sort, one which filtered – or, in this case, completely blocked – the connection between language receptors in the brain and those responsible for speech. The field itself seemed to be coming from the moon the TARDIS was orbiting –

_No, not orbiting_, he realized as he looked at the proximity readings. _We're being drawn in. It's a tractor beam. _

He made a face.

A tractor beam whose secondary effect was to force sentient creatures to rely on their primary, native tongue?

He'd never heard of anything like that before, but even without the effect it was having on him and Rose, he didn't like it.

He had to get down there and figure out what was going on, before this language barrier caused some sort of intergalactic incident.

If it hadn't already.

He also needed to somehow explain to Rose what was going on. With no way to be understood, that would be harder than usual.

He was still able to communicate easily with the TARDIS, due in part to their bond, but also because their link was telepathic. It occurred to him that he could connect to Rose's mind in a similar way. Then there would be no disconnect then, and even if thought didn't need translation into actual language, they would be able to understand each other perfectly.

But knowing her unease when it came to telepathy, he figured she'd be upset at the idea and he didn't currently have the ability to explain everything to her. Teaching someone how to keep their thoughts private in the face of telepathic sharing wasn't exactly something you could stumble through with a quick game of Charades.

Plus, the idea of mentally connecting with anyone except the TARDIS just yet was…uncomfortable.

Well, that option was out.

He considered another moment, musing on the problem, and then nodded to himself.

_Got it_, he tried to tell her, once again raising a hand to tell her to wait and going rummaging for something under the console.

After a bit of fishing about, he dragged out several of the post-it pads he'd been keeping under the dash, as well as a pen with a dry nib. He scribbled a bit to get the ink flowing, and then set about writing down exactly what he had discover –

Only for several lines of linear Gallifreyan to flow forth.

He stared at it in disgusted disbelief and then threw down the pen in anger.

_The minute I find out who's responsible for this one…_

There was a rustling sound and he watched Rose pick up the pen, then scratch something onto the post-it notes.

He raised an eyebrow with just the slightest bit of disdain. _If it didn't work for me, it's hardly going to work for you_.

But when she handed him the post-it and he looked down, he saw that she hadn't tried to write anything.

Instead, she'd scribbled a quick approximation of the TARDIS console and two stick figures – he took it to be them – standing on either side. Something like waves had been drawn heading toward the two figures, and then a line drawn through it. Finally at the end, a stick figure scratching their head.

The message was clear: she knew there was something wrong with the translation too.

Not only that, but she'd found a way for them to communicate.

The Doctor beamed at her, and caught her up in a hug.

_You are fantastic_, he told her, although it came out as something infinitely drier and less complimentary in the Gallifreyan sense. She looked confused, but pleased, and even offered him a bit of a grin.

_Stay right there_, he indicated. He had a plan…

· ΘΣ ·

Now that they seemed to have a way to communicate, Rose waited for the Doctor to return from wherever he had gone and tell her what the plan was. She didn't like the idea of not understanding what he was saying to her…although, she sort of hoped he would try talking to her again in his language. Even if she couldn't understand it, it sounded beautiful.

At first, when whatever happened happened, she hadn't realized that he was speaking to her. She had thought that he'd accidentally turned on a music player or something among the countless buttons and keys on the console.

But then he had looked right at her and opened his mouth – and the lyrics, haunting sound that had flowed from his lips had made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and goosebumps skitter up her back.

No wonder he had once told her she would never be able to speak his language. She had a hard time thinking of ways to describe it, let alone try to mimic the sounds he made. What it must have sounded like, so many people speaking that language together!

_Oh_, she realized. _No wonder he doesn't want any reminders of it. To lose something that sounds so beautiful…_

She tucked that thought away as the Doctor returned to the console room, dragging a huge blackboard behind him.

'Where the hell did you get that?' she asked, and he grinned roguishly at her. Obviously he still couldn't understand her, but he recognized the tone.

He set the board up between two of the TARDIS coral struts, and then pulled her over to the jumpseat to sit down. Pulling out a package of chalk from his jacket pocket – and really, she wasn't even surprised at the things that came out of there anymore! – and adopting an expression of mock-concentration, he set about creating a rough yet very accurately rendered series of pictographs.

She made out the TARDIS orbiting some kind of planet or moon, emitting little squiggly lines.

'Something like radiation?' she guessed, and when he looked a question at her, she got up and took a different piece of chalk.

She drew a quick and very inaccurate looking skeletal arm beside the round planet/moon, like something from an x-ray machine. Those used radiation, right?'

The drawing was badly done, but he seemed to get her thought and shook his head. He reached up a few inches higher than his drawing and made some squiggly lines.

'The hell's that supposed to be?' she asked.

He rolled her eyes, like she was being deliberately obtuse, and then added a something like a shark fin. Something to do with the ocean?

'What does the ocean have to do with anything?' she mused out loud. 'Ocean...oceans and planets, what do they have in common? Or…wait, not planets – moons! Moons and oceans…tides. Something to do with magnets? Oh bollocks, why didn't I pay attention in school…' She screwed up her face in an effort to remember. 'Right, the moon's got some kind of magnetic pull, makes the tides happen. So…this moon we're going around, it's got some kind of pull?'

She directed the last question to him, even knowing he couldn't understand her, and then reached up an added arrows from the TARDIS to the moon.

His expression lit up with what looked like pride when he realized she'd understood, and she was reward with another melodic exclamation from his beautiful language.

'Right, good, so we've got the first part,' Rose nodded. She made a motion that he should carry on.

This time he drew two faces next to each other with speech bubbles and a line through both, like two people who couldn't speak to each other. A facsimile of what she'd drawn earlier.

'Yeah, I know that part,' she rolled her eyes. 'I want to know _why_ it's happening – and hold on, don't you speak like 5 billion languages? Why can't you explain this to me in English even if the TARDIS translation isn't working?'

He blinked, raised an expectant eyebrow.

She huffed out a breath and went to another section of the blackboard, then drew a stick figure with large ears and a scribbled on leather jacket – he let out a hissing exclamation then that she knew was probably protest – and then a series of speech bubbles coming from his mouth. Each bubble, she filled with a different line of shapes like stars or hearts or triangles.

Inches away, she drew a stick figure of herself, complete with long hair, and filled a speech bubble with triangles. Tapping the two bubbles with the same shapes in them, she repeated, 'Why can't you just talk to me in my language?'

He frowned at the picture, and when he understood, he shook his head.

He made a rocking motion with his hands, and then brushed a hand under his chin, flicking outward as he mouthed.

'You've lost me,' she told him.

He went back to the chalk, drawing something that might have been a baby or a bumpy rock, as well as a stick figure in a chair talking to it.

Probably a baby then.

'Still makes no sense,' she shook her head.

He made a wordless grumble and glared at her like she was being deliberately obtuse.

'Oi! It's not my fault you're a rubbish artist!'

He crossed his arms under his armpits defensively, and then his expression cleared. Holding up his hand in what she had started to call his _now pay attention_ gesture, he then pretended to himself in the face, following it up by pointing at her.

It took a bit before his meaning sunk in, when she did, she couldn't keep in an incredulous laugh. 'My mother? What's my mother got to do with the language – oh. _Mother tongue.'_

She considered the pictures again, and it dawned on her. 'This…weird magnetic field thing is making people have to speak their mother tongue? So, I have to speak English and you have to speak Time Lord.'

Sensing that she understood, he nodded.

Rose exhaled, feeling strangely exhausted after finally getting down to the gist of things.

'Alright, then, so what do we do?' she gave an elaborate shrug.

The Doctor gestured to the door out of the TARDIS, then pointed at himself and walked to fingers toward it. He then held out the sonic in front of it, peering at it thoughtfully.

'We've got to investigate the planet,' she realized, and nodded at him. 'Okay, I'm game. The sooner we sort this, the better, right?'

She started toward the door, but a firm hand on her arm stopped her.

The Doctor shook his head at her, and with a series of hand gestures made plain that he expected her to stay there.

'Oh, not bloody likely!' she snapped. 'You're in just as much of a fix as I am, Doctor, you don't understand nothing either! What happens if you get in trouble and you can't ask anyone for help? At least with me you'd have someone on your side!'

But he was still shaking his head and talking to her incomprehensibly. She concentrated on ignoring the lilting language and how convincing whatever he said sounded in it.

Her obstinacy must have shown on her face, because he ducked his head closer to her and she found herself pinned by his icy gaze. He murmured one word – as incomprehensible as all the rest, but somehow from the way he said it and the special _weight_ she could feel behind it, she knew what it was.

_Rose Tyler_.

She shivered at that, nearly missing the pleading look he was giving her.

She found herself nodding, and he gave her a grateful smile, before heading for the door.

'No, wait!' she cried, reaching out and grabbing hold of his arm.

He cocked his head to one side in question.

'Just…be careful, yeah?'

The smile changed from grateful to something she couldn't quite interpret, and to her surprise he began taking his wrist watch off.

Quietly explaining something to her, he showed her the watch face and made a slow revolution of the numbers to indicate an hour, then pointed at the door and himself, then made the walking motion with his fingers again.

'You'll be back in an hour?' she guessed.

He grinned and squeezed her hand in acknowledgement.

And with that, the Doctor strode from the console room, leaving her all alone on the TARDIS for the first time.


	3. Chapter Three

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>THREE<strong>

The door of the TARDIS clicked shut behind him as the Doctor stepped out onto the alien moon and glanced around for some indication of where he had landed. An empty vista of desert on one side, juxtaposed with hills and low mountain ranges on the other.

The ship's databanks hadn't given him the name of the moon or even the system they had found themselves in, but that wasn't unusual. There were quite a few places in the universe that had been undiscovered or the people hadn't yet developed a concept of naming their home system.

According to the readings, he and Rose had come out of the Vortex about six thousand years in her future, but in an entirely different section of the galaxy. Despite his usual avoidance of using his temporal senses, there was a nagging at the back of his mind that suggested there was more to landing here than just an inconvenient tractor beam. As he had told Rose once before, only a very powerful tractor beam should be able to trap the TARDIS, which meant that for some reason, the TARDIS had decided to let them get stuck here.

He doubted it had anything to do with her earlier annoyance at him. Even half-blind to the eddies of time he could feel something coming – like a fixed event, only more fluid. Rather like something was meant to happen here, but the event hadn't become set yet. Once it did, however, the path of this particular place would diverge into two utterly different probability trees.

_Not a good sign_, he thought with a frown. Moments in time like that usually meant he was about to be dragged into the machinations of history. Considering he didn't know anything about where he was, it was very likely this adventure wouldn't have an easy resolution to it.

He flexed the fingers of his right hand, frowning at how empty it felt.

It wasn't the first time since he'd met Rose that he'd embarked on an adventure without her, but it was the first time she happened to be on the same planet as him at the time but wasn't coming along.

He didn't like it.

_Could go back and get her_, he thought. After all, what difference could having her along make? So they couldn't understand each other – they still probably communicated better than most people of the same species or language at any given time.

_Better not_, he decided a moment later.

The moon where they'd landed wasn't exactly human friendly. It was colder and drier than Rose was used to, and the gravity a bit higher. That alone would throw a human's sense of balance out of whack and make walking an effort. He only dimly noticed it, but Rose wouldn't appreciate it.

_Probably complain about gaining weight_, he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

More importantly, the atmosphere here wasn't the best for human lungs. There was a thick, smoggy quality to it that made it hard to breathe. He was just shy of having to use his respiratory bypass, but it was manageable. As long as he didn't have to make a run for it, he'd be fine.

Working the sonic out of his pocket, he set it to find the origin of any telepathic or magnetic signals in the area. Those would lead him to whatever was causing the language barrier – and if he was lucky, the tractor beam as well – and he could turn it off.

Or reason with it, if it happened to be a creature. Such things had been known to happen before. He was actually hoping that wasn't the case, because sometimes it was just easier to reason with machines than it was sentient species. Especially if the sentient species knew what they were doing and didn't see the point of stopping when he asked nicely.

The sonic whirred, indicating a possible origin point coming from the north-east, and he set to following it.

He ended up following what appeared to be a road of some sort, judging by the well-traveled nature of it. There were many sets of tracks along it, mostly made by hooves, but occasionally a tire track from a large vehicle.

_They still use beasts of burden but have the technology to create a language field, _he mused. _Bit of a contradiction, these people. Whoever they are._

He noticed a town or village of some sort down in one of the valleys; it was laid out on a grid pattern and almost completely square in its lay-out. Every street appeared to criss-cross at a right angle, and no house was bigger than any other.

_Sticklers for order_, he noted. _Never really a good sign, that._

Luckily he didn't have to make any detours down into the village. The sonic led him up another rough trail and toward the foot of one of the mountain ranges. Eventually, the signal he was tracking led him to a palatial structure that was built into the side of one of the mountains.

The place was towering, and built with the same austere, mathematical precision as the village had been, just on a more imposing scale and with better quality materials. The place conveyed a sense of majesty, as well as imperiousness.

Whatever was causing the language issues was probably inside, but getting in was going to be a problem.

Even from the distance he could see the place was heavily guarded. And not by any kind of humanoid creatures, either.

The aliens of this moon appeared to be something like a cross between a panda and a chollima. They were completely covered with white fur, except for their round ears, bulbous noses and the palms of their clawed hands. These were the same black colour of their eyes, which stared out of ursine faces. Their wet noses glistened with something like mucous – possibly a result of the smoggy air – and their split lips opening over large teeth – flat, not sharp, so at least they weren't carnivores which was a good sign.

They all had the same shockingly thick, white hair worn in something like a knot at the top of their heads, creating the illusion of a third ear. Although they wore long, intricately embroidered robes, he could make out hooves instead of feet beneath their clothing. They had wings, too, but they were so delicate looking they had probably devolved past their usefulness – in fact, they had probably never been used for flight but to store warmth in the hot season to warm themselves when it grew cool.

They were also carrying halberds.

_Not exactly a welcoming group, this._

What exactly did he intend to do now?

He usually favored the direct approach in situations like this, or bluffing his way in with the psychic paper, but that wouldn't work in this instance. He'd tried it when he went to get the chalk board for Rose earlier, but every thought he'd tried to get out in English had showed up in Gallifreyan. The language barrier was obviously affecting psychic waves as well.

He made a quick circuit of the building, looking for any way in without being seen, but there were guards everywhere. No cameras though, he noticed, which meant he would be able to sonic the feed or cause a distraction with a minor incendiary device.

Maybe there was someway to get in underground? Of only he could –

_Snap_!

He whirled around, and froze.

Apparently, he'd been noticed.

The alien guards made no indication of moving toward him, simply surrounding him. Possibly they were waiting for orders, which meant the people he was dealing with were a rule-abiding, disciplined bunch.

He considered their slow, graceful movements and their intricate style of dress.

_Honor-bound society_, he guessed. _One way to find out._

Holding his palms outward in a gesture that was almost universally known as supplication by the 81st century, he bowed his head and shoulders forward.

The aliens shifted at this, their body language conveying something like surprise. While he still had their attention, he slowly showed them that he was unarmed, turning in a circle and showing the inside of his coat.

It seemed to be working, at any rate, because the largest of the lot stepped forward and performed a similar bow to the Doctor.

Although he noticeably did not show a gesture of supplication.

Instead he barked out an order or a question, and the Doctor sighed. It seemed he wasn't done using his native tongue.

He started telling them that he couldn't understand them and they likely couldn't understand him, considering no one understood Gallifreyan any more, and did they happen to have drawing board he might be able to –

He stopped when he noticed that the aliens had become agitated. No, that was putting it lightly.

The leader was barking more questions at him, while one of the smaller ones had brought out what looked like a tiny digital tablet and was aiming it at the Doctor as he spoke.

Perhaps their translation software was experiencing problems too? Well, good thing he was there, then, he'd be able to sort them out, if they'd just –

There was an angry squelching noise from the computer device, and the group of them became even more excited. Some of them were gesturing at him with their clawed hands.

And now they were all pointing their halberds at him.

_Think I'm in a bit of trouble_, he thought dimly.

He could either go peaceably with them – they would no doubt bring him before some kind of governing authority and he might be able to figure out what was going on. Of course, doing that there was a chance that the entire adventure might go south and he'd end up in prison. That would definitely make him late and Rose would worry.

Or, he could make a run for it. Go back to the TARDIS and come up with a strategy with Rose as to what to do. They wouldn't necessarily need to talk in order to come up with a plan.

_A plan for what, though_?

It wasn't as if the aliens were hostile – at least not as much as some he could name. Hell, there were human civilizations he'd encountered that would have tried to spear him by now.

No, best to go with a low-energy solution until he knew what kind of situation he was dealing with.

He made a show of showing he was cooperating, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. He held out his wrists to them, and their excited energy seemed to fade. As if seeing him behave calmly was unexpected yet appreciated.

_Not used to people coming quietly, obviously. Oh, well, take me to your leader_, he thought with grim humour.

All was going well, until one of the aliens nudged his jacket to one side while trying to put him into his cuffs and the sonic tumbled out. Upon seeing the device, the mood suddenly changed from the solemn and routine process to suspicious frenzy.

The leader began demanding something of him, gesturing to the sonic, but when the Doctor reached for it to show them it wasn't a weapon in the way they thought it was, they all began shouting at him.

Meaty paws held him from behind, while others roughly dragged his jacket off him and started patting down his trousers. While trying to tell them to calm down, he saw the glint of something with a vial attached to it and his senses snapped to attention.

_Oh, not happening_, he thought fiercely at the sight of what was definitely some kind of tranquilizer. Bad things happened when he got knocked out.

With a grunt of effort, he tried to hurtle himself past the two aliens closest to him, who'd left a gap between their arms and weapons. They clearly hadn't expected the speed or suddenness of his movement, and for a moment he thought he was going to make it –

There was a pricking sensation in his neck, just above the collar of his coat and he swore.

Darkness was already overtaking his vision before he hit the ground.


	4. Chapter Four

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>FOUR<strong>

Rose spent the first fifteen minute lingering beside the TARDIS console, observing the face of the Doctor's watch and counting down the time to when he would be back.

'How does he even do that, anyhow?' she wondered to herself, considering the watch. It looked like a regular watch from Earth to her. Wouldn't it be funny if he was just pretending to consult it when they landed, just to look impressive? 'Actually, wouldn't put that past him.'

Eventually, she decided waiting was boring (and not the least bit pathetic, since she was technically waiting around for a man), and she considered other ways to spend her time. She could always take this opportunity to explore the TARDIS further – she had been meaning to for weeks now but never gotten around to it.

Somehow it seemed wrong to do it while the Doctor wasn't around, though. There might be some places that he didn't want her stumbling upon – like his room, perhaps, or some closet with private belongings – and she wouldn't know that unless he told her.

Best wait for him to get back, then.

If he came back, a sly voice at the back of her mind pointed out.

What if he got lost somewhere out there? He wouldn't be coming back – and she wouldn't be able to get home.

'Stop it,' she ordered herself. He was coming back. He had promised.

The library or multimedia room were options – though the latter would be useless to her with no translation available, and the library was only fun when the Doctor was about.

'Suppose I could give an alien telenovela a try without the translations,' she considered. By the time she managed it, the Doctor would probably be back, and everything would be fixed and she could see how well she'd done interpreting everything…

Still, she didn't make a move to visit either of those two places. She knew her thoughts would be far from the intricacies of alien languages right now.

Instead, she went back to watching the timepiece in spite of her earlier derision of it, trying to ignore the part of her that wanted nothing more than to completely disregard the Doctor's orders. He had told her to stay put for a reason, after all.

Well, actually, not really. If he had, she hadn't really understood him. He'd simply given her one of those devastating, pleading looks and she'd agreed.

'One hour,' she coached herself firmly.

However, when the watch finally ticked down that hour, he hadn't showed up. She gave him another five minutes – a painstaking wait, that – because he was notorious for being late. After another five, she tried to tell herself it was fine – he'd probably figured out what was wrong and was lingering behind to make friends or chat the way he sometimes did.

As private an individual as he was, the Doctor loved to hear himself talk. She didn't think it was possible for anyone to talk more than the Doctor, even when he wasn't saying anything at all.

Probably that was on purpose.

At fifteen minutes, Rose left the console room.

There was no such thing as being fashionably late when you were the Doctor, and he was probably in trouble. Meaning, he needed someone to bail him out, and after an hour, she was probably the only person he actually knew on this planet.

It didn't matter that she was potentially heading out onto a moon where no one would be able to understand her, and vice versa. She'd find him somehow.

Flipping through her phone, she found the one picture she had of him. She could use it to show anyone who didn't understand her that she was looking for him, if hand gestures didn't do the trick.

'If this becomes a thing, I'm gonna need to take more photos of him,' she said out loud to no one. His inevitable moodiness over that conversation could go hang for all she cared. At least she'd have a way to look for him if they ever got separated again. 'If only he'd carry a blood mobile like a normal person…'

She headed to her room, searching for some better clothing and supplies that would make helping him easier.

Rummaging through the red backpack she had brought from home, she tried to decide what she would need. She didn't know the planet or the climate or anything like that – and it wasn't even something she could find out, even if the ship's translation circuits were working. The Doctor had just told her that the information on the screens only ever came up in his language. It wasn't likely to change under normal circumstances, let alone now that they were trapped in some kind of…language prison planet.

'Okay, think logically,' she ordered herself, hands on her hips.

She'd need comfortable shoes – a given on a normal day with the Doctor, but especially important for a possible rescue. All her things should be waterproof, too, if wherever they had landed was anything like London, where the weather changed every five minutes. And she'd need clothing that wouldn't get caught on anything or was easy for someone to grab on to.

'On that note,' she mumbled, pulling her hair back and trying it so that it didn't present to easy a target to anyone's grasping hands – or, you know, tentacles.

Thinking on the last time she'd been captured by an alien and remembering the Doctor's tendency to get his sonic screwdriver taken from him, she secreted away a few bobby pins into her hair was well. As long as the locks on this planet weren't too alien, she might be able to manage to open something.

She stopped in the kitchen to get some water in case there was none on that planet, and after a considering thought, added a few of the tasteless nutrition bars from the food machine. She hated them, but the Doctor was always going on about how they had everything a body needed…

Thinking on the many homeless she'd seen on the streets back home during the worst points in each season, she decided she might also need something to keep her warm or cold depending on the alien world's climate.

After rummaging in the wardrobe for a bit, she found a section near what looked like mountaineering gear that had what she was looking for, and pulled out a blue coat. It was a futuristic model that looked like leather but felt like snakeskin, and on the inside of the sleeve there was a temperature gage that allowed her to change whether it produced heat or cold.

'S'like air conditioning for clothing,' she marvelled.

Even better, it seemed to have pockets that were – if not bigger on the inside like the Doctor's – at least voluminous enough that she could squeeze all the supplies she'd wrangled into them.

Deciding that she had everything she could think of, and trying not to dwell on the fact she was really only prepared for what an Earth-like planet could throw at her, she headed out.

She was sort of hoping that by the time she got back to the console room that the Doctor would have returned and they could have a bit of a laugh about how silly she was being.

But he wasn't.

Squaring her shoulders, Rose strode purposefully over to the door and pulled.

The door didn't budge.

'What the – ?'

She pulled again, this time using both hands, and the second time tried to get leverage using her foot.

Still, the door wouldn't open.

The TARDIS was locked. Had he locked her in? Why would he do that? Was he trying to stop her from doing exactly as she had planned?

'Come on!' she cried, feeling a little bit panicked now. It wasn't so much the idea that all of her planning had been for nothing, as the idea of having been trapped somewhere.

Another round of fruitless tugging at her backing up, running her hand through her bangs anxiously.

Maybe she should just wait until he came back, after all? No, that seemed a bit too much like giving up for her taste. But there weren't really that many options, and she didn't think the TARDIS had any other exits.

What would the Doctor do in this situation? If it were her out on some strange planet and him locked in here?

'Well, obviously, he'd sonic the door,' she told herself with a frown. Too bad she didn't really have that capability right now. Or ever.

Well, it was better he had the sonic in any case, especially if he was in some sort of trouble.

Of course, him being in trouble was the whole reason behind her trying to get out!

He might be a dab hand at this adventuring and world saving thing, but even he could get into scrapes. What if he'd gotten arrested? Or hurt? Or kill –

She jumped to her feet, not even allowing that thought to take hold.

She wasn't just going to sit there and her arse and wait while he might be dying!

She set off, intent on scaring up some kind of lever or pipe in order to pry open the TARDIS doors. She didn't care what the Doctor had said about the hordes of Genghis Khan, she was getting out of this ship!

She tripped suddenly and was sent sprawling.

Hands stinging from scraping against the floor, she glared over at the loose bit of floor panel that had knocked her down. She could have sworn that had been flat a second ago, and –

Her eyes fell on something just next to the jump seat.

It looked like a smaller version of her red rucksack, only it was yellow.

And peaking out from beneath the flap, she noticed a familiar looking object. It resembled the breathing mask she had worn when she and the Doctor visited Krakatoa. The air had been so full of pumice the Doctor hadn't wanted her to choke and had provided her with this.

Understanding dawned on her, and her eyes fell on the floor panel. It had snapped back into place, once more a smooth expanse of grating.

The ship was giving her a message.

If she had gone out of the TARDIS before, she might have suffocated mere steps from the door.

Shame washed over her, along with the staggering realization of just how out of depth she was right now.

Tentatively, she reached out and flipped the latch open.

The pack was filled with things she hadn't and probably never would have thought of – bandages and disinfectant, a device that resembled a Swiss army knife, tiny syringes and plastic bottles of liquid (all thankfully labelled in English), a Geiger counter and for some reason a thermos of tea.

She shivered, the enormity of the situation hitting her all at once. What she was about to do was dangerous, and although the TARDIS wouldn't stop her, it seemed to be trying to tell her to be careful. She could get hurt, or killed, herself.

'Thanks,' she told the ship tentatively, not really expecting a reply. It only spoke to the Doctor, after all, even under normal circumstances. 'But I still have to go.'

Although she was glad for the warning from the ship (which she still couldn't quite come to grips with being alive), she had to go out.

'We're gonna have a talk with himself when this is all over, though,' she announced decisively as she put the breathing mask on. 'We need a better plan than this one if he's ever late again.'

Either that, or he just wasn't leaving her alone on the ship again.

Decked out in her mismatched bit of gear, Rose took a deep breath and headed for the door.

This time it opened for her easily, and she stepped out onto the alien world.


	5. Chapter Five

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>FIVE<strong>

The fact that she was completely out of her depth was immediately obvious to Rose as she closed the TARDIS door behind her.

Barren landscape stretched in every direction, and bordered in one direction with inhospitable looking hills and desert in the other. The greenish-yellow sky loomed over her with a foreboding presence that made her feel like something huge and cosmic was looking down on her and finding her wanting. It didn't help that she felt about twice as heavy as usual. Even standing felt like a strain.

She swallowed, the sound unnaturally loud in her breathing mask.

She wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do now.

In other situations where she and the Doctor were separated, it had at least happened in places where she could find tools or other people to help her. Or, stall until the Doctor managed to find her. He seemed to have impeccable timing when it came to getting her out of trouble at the last minute.

That wasn't going to happen in this case.

Right now, she was well and truly isolated. Even if she did somehow manage to find another living creature on this moon willing to help her, the likelihood of them understanding her was low.

Or worse, they might be hostile.

'So right now, all I've got is me,' she murmured, trying to swallow down terror at that notion. She inhaled deeply and shook her head. 'Come on, now, buck up. Time to be brave. Think about what the Doctor would do in this case.'

He was always running into danger without a real plan, and as much as he liked to think he was such a dab hand at world saving, she'd begun to suspect that half the time – possibly even three quarters – he was just making things up as he went.

_Though, that might be a bit of a death wish on his part_.

He had just lost his people, after all, and maybe he just didn't care anymore. She had no idea what he had been like before the Time War – maybe he had been a lot more careful and methodical back then?

In which case, making thinking like the Doctor wasn't exactly the best thing.

She turned doubtfully back to the door, knowing she could easily just go back inside and wait. He might still come get her, after all.

_Of course, if he doesn't, I might spend the rest of my life living on the TARDIS saying that._

That decided her. Exploring the alien moon it was.

Still, on the outside chance he _did_ return, she didn't want him leaving without her.

With a bit of shuffling about, she worked the bracelet off of her hand and linked it through the handle of the TARDIS door. That way, if the Doctor returned before she managed to find him, he'd know she wasn't in the TARDIS and would come looking for her.

_Grumbling all the way, but he'll probably have an easier time of finding me than the other way around._

She wasn't exactly sure what direction she should set off in, and so checked the ground for any clues. To her delight, she immediately saw a set of footprints that had to be the Doctor's. She'd seen his boot tread that time on the top of Mount Everest, and it was unlikely anyone else would be wearing the same boots on an alien world.

That decided, she began to follow the steady path and felt a little more confident in her decision to go after him.

It took her a while to adjust to walking with the strange gravity, but eventually it became something she vaguely noticed at the back of her mind – like having worked out too much the day before and having your muscles complaining.

She wasn't sure how long she actually walked, but eventually she couldn't see the TARDIS anymore and had instead come to the base of one of the mountain ranges.

She paused behind an outcropping of rock to gather her bearings.

There was a large building built into the face of the lowest mountains, looking a little like the Peace Pagoda at Battersea Park, only much larger and a lot less colorful. It was also surrounded on all sides by aliens dressed in elaborate clothing and wielding long pole weapons.

Rose swallowed nervously, taking in their sharp claws and the odd wing-shaped protrusions on their back, and then considered the Doctor's footprints. They headed off into the distance and seemed to circle around the structure until they disappeared.

She started to follow them, and then paused.

_Wait a minute and think_, she ordered herself. She was an alien on some other planet which might not have seen aliens before – the Doctor might have been captured and killed for it. The same could easily happened to her if she didn't weigh the different possibilities.

_Not likely_, she argued with herself. After all, there was some kind of language force field beaming out into space, obviously this little moon was aware of alien life. _Did they do that on purpose, I wonder_?

She studied the footprint again and tried to imagine what the Doctor had done when he was here. Normally he'd walk right up to the people and start running his mouth, but with no one able to understand him and no way to disable the weapons (at least, she didn't think the sonic worked on spear-things like that), he might have decided to just sneak in to the place and figure things out on his own.

_Actually, I be that's exactly what he did._

If he was sneaking around, he might have been noticed. And with no way of explaining to anyone why he was there, maybe they thought he was an intruder? Had had been arrested for lesser things than that already.

She didn't want anything like that to happen to her.

_Maybe the Doctor-approach after all_, she mused. If they saw her coming from a distance, they would either let her approach or not. Possibly come after her, in the latter case, but she was confident she could move faster than the robed creatures. If she had to, she could run back to the TARDIS before they caught her.

Probably. She wasn't sold on how the gravity was going to affect her speed, but she'd done some amazing things with adrenaline running through her veins, so there was that.

An idea struck her, and she brought out her mobile as well, bringing up the photo of the Doctor. If they let her get close enough, she could probably mime to them that she was looking for him.

Unless they were like the Queen's Guard, in which case she was wasting her time.

_Now or never_, she decided and strode forward.

The aliens showed no sign of attacking her as she neared them, or even approaching, but neither did they seem very welcoming.

At first, the strange creatures appeared wary of her, but when she showed she wasn't about to attack them, they seemed more welcoming. One of them barked something, and his friend hurried off somewhere.

Still unsure of herself, she offered a smile.

'Hi – I'm Rose. Looking for a friend of mine. You wouldn't have seen him, would you?' she held out her phone to the one closest to her. It looked at the screen, perplexed, and then warbled in – surprise, possibly? He showed the screen to one of his companions.

Another of the aliens suddenly moved, bringing out a tablet shaped object from within his robes. He consulted it, looked up at her, and then to one of her comrades and said something, and Rose felt her heart lift at the idea that maybe she was getting through to them.

The largest of the aliens – perhaps their leader – muttered something that from its tone sounded like resignation or exasperation but which she couldn't be sure. It then held up a clawed paw, like he was telling her to wait

Not having any other recourse, she did just that.

About ten minutes later, a second group of the strange bear creature appeared from around the mountain. They were carrying a carriage-shaped, windowless litter, and brought it to a stop before Rose. The leader gestured again, first at her and then towards the litter, and she got the sense he expected her to get into it.

_Why not_, she wondered. Everything had been rather civilized so far, and none of them had given any indication they were about to do her harm.

She was followed into the litter by one of the smaller guards, who sat across from her.

'Tour guide?' she guessed lightly, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice.

There was no response as the littler was picked up and the creatures on the outside began to run with it.

Rose wasn't sure how long the journey lasted, but she knew it was at least a few hours. At first she tried to fill the silence of it by chatting with her escort, trying to get some kind of answer from him – but he stared resolutely ahead of her the whole time.

Once she thought her frantic gesturing had gotten him to smile – if it was a smile – but that could have been a trick of the light.

Before she could prompt him about it, the carriage came to a halt and he was gesturing for her to get out.

As she stepped out of the litter, she got her first look at their destination and for the first time since she set uncertain feet outside the TARDIS, Rose felt the swooping sense of trouble in her stomach.

The building looked Wandsworth Prison, complete with dank looking façade and sprawling wings. The only difference here that she could see was instead of bars on the windows, there was an electrical field of some sort.

Memories of her visit to the Justicia system with the Doctor floated to the surface of her memories, and she had the belated realization that this hadn't been such a good idea after all.

'Yeah, that's not happening,' she declared, trying to back away.

Her escort made a move toward her, the first time it had actively tried to touch her and she jerked back reflexively.

As if that move triggered some kind of reaction, her escort suddenly bared his teeth – flat, thankfully, but as intimidating as a horse's – and went for her again. Hands grabbed her from behind – some of the litter-carriers getting in on the action, no doubt – and she found herself unable to move.

'Oi! Let me go!'

There was no way to fight them off as they pulled her through the menacing doors of the facility. Once within the industrial looking walls, multiple hands began divesting her off her outer clothing and possessions – the backpack, the smart coat, her mobile – and shoving her through the hallways. It probably took longer because she was fighting them every step of the way, but they still managed it.

And then suddenly they were taking her breathing mask.

'No!' she yelled, flailing at them and trying to scramble away. She managed to land a punch to one of the nearest aliens, and it let out a snarl of surprised rage.

The backhand that landed across her face made her see stars, and she felt a sharp pain near her hairline that suggested one of the claws at nicked her.

As she fought to see through her spinning surroundings and the bit of blood that dripped into her left eye, she felt the mask wrenched away from her. She didn't even have time to take a futile gulp of the filtered air.

Thick, acrid tasting air filled her mouth and nose and her lungs burned in protest.

She was going to suffocate to death.

'No…!' she whispered, barely enough strength in her voice to manage the plea. _Doctor…where are you…?_

Weak from oxygen loss, she didn't even have the strength to fight any longer, and dark spots were blossoming across her vision.

She was grasped roughly, and without ceremony something pipe-like was shoved up her nose. There was a crunching sound. A slicing, burning pain flared right behind her eyes and she let out an agonized cry –

Only to realize her lungs were suddenly being flooded with oxygen.

As she struggled to get more air into her lungs, eyes tearing from the lingering pain of whatever device they had just put in her, they dragged her somewhere else.

Upon seeing her destination – a large cell, filled with a bunch of people and aliens that looked rougher and more dangerous than anything she wanted to be left on her own with – she once again attempted a feeble escape attempt.

She kicked and clawed, twisting her body around in an attempt to escape.

This time, it was a blow to the head that stopped her. While it didn't knock her out, it jarred her enough that she went limp.


	6. Chapter Six

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>SIX<strong>

When the Doctor came to, it was in a small cell that wasn't even wide enough for him to extend both arms across. From the taste of the air and texture of the ground, the Doctor figured he had been brought underground. His sense of time told him he'd been unconscious for at least half a day.

Not unusual, that, although a bit troubling.

_Fantastic. Rose is probably going spare. Hope she doesn't do something stupid like come looking for me._

That fear needled at him, but he tamped it down. It wasn't something he had control over right now, and he had to figure out how bad his situation was.

Gathering his wits around him, he saw that he was in a dimly lit, almost cavernous chamber which was filled with rows upon rows of cages similar to his own. Each one was occupied by a different creature. His neighbor to the right was a meek, spindly looking girl who resembled a marmoset with a third leg. She didn't appear to be any older than Rose. On his left, a bright yellow monocular creature with a body like a marshmallow and which was omitting some rather offensive smelling fumes, but seemed otherwise harmless.

The surroundings were decidedly primitive, relying on pulleys and levers to move doors, except in places where higher tech had been used according to no rhyme or reason he could see. There were no cameras around, but there were bulky looking computer terminals set along the sides of the rocky walls, almost like they had been added as an afterthought.

It reminded him of when he had been captured – a species that relied on old fashioned weapons instead of digital, but who had been using an information tablet? He hadn't remarked on it at the time, but now he was seeing it again. Perhaps these people were in the middle of a technological revolution?

They didn't even have electric lights – oil lamps lit the environs of the cave – but they had a television that could be seen from the vantage point of each cage.

_And there's the downside to technological revelation…ignore the essentials, but make sure you've got the biggest idiot box you can find_.

The screen showed some kind of arena shot, an empty dais of dusty and rock, surrounded on all sides by steps that were being filled up by people.

_A bit weird for them to lock us up but treat us to watching this world's version of football…_

Weird, but not the weirdest. After all, he'd been to a moon where the primary form of entertainment was juggling goslings.

His own cell didn't give him much to work with either.

There was some kind of counter over the barred door, like a timer, but he couldn't read the numbers. Based on the time elapsed between the change of numbers, he gathered that the smallest unit of time here was a centenium – about a human minute and forty seconds. He filed the information away for later.

A quick investigation showed that he had none of his belongings but for one layer of clothing.

_At least they didn't take my boots_, he thought grimly, though he was annoyed he'd once again lost his jacket and sonic.

Still. Best not dwell on what couldn't be helped.

He had to focus on the problem at hand – that being, the other people being held in the cells. While a handful of them looked dangerous – his eyes lingered on the foxfaced creature a few cells away from him, who was licking his chops – the rest didn't look as if they should be anywhere near a prison.

Not that looks couldn't be deceiving, but still.

He decided to try to talk to his neighbors, for all the good it would do.

He only received confused or bemused looks before they looked away from him, like they were scared. Also not unexpected, that. People sometimes reacted to Gallifreyan that way.

The marmoset girl, however, looked awed by his language.

Her eyes were wide and mouth parted as she cocked her head to one side. After a few light-hearted comments in her direction, which she clearly didn't understand, he moved on to asking his captors the same questions – this time the reaction was different than when he had approached the aliens before being captured. From their body language and the expressions trained on him now that twisted into varying degrees of disgust, worry and hatred, they weren't keen on being spoken to him.

_Like I'm a cockroach that just decided to stop in for a cuppa_, he thought with realization.

One of them brought out a long metal rod and –

_ZAP!_

The Doctor swore and jumped back from the bars.

Primitive or not, the cage still conducted a charge and he raised his hands in acceptance.

_Message received: knock it off, _he mused. _For now._

So he wasn't allowed to address the captors. That was fine. Usually that would just encourage him to talk them to death, but right now, with Gallifreyan tripping from his lips with an ease he hadn't managed in centuries and filling the air around him with painful memories, he was trying to avoid speaking as long as he could.

With no one answering his questions, he had to somehow piece everything together himself.

While he could recognize most of the different aliens based on their physical appearance – and in some cases, even tell what language they would be speaking – he couldn't communicate with them. The savage looking fox individual from earlier was leering at the marmoset girl through his bars, whispering things to her that the Doctor intellectually knew was filthy. He recognized the vocal patterns of the language, but its actual words refused to register in his mind.

_Which means for now, don't focus on communicating, figure out what you can without it._

All of the guards were the same species, all of the captives different. The guards were also – oh. Doing something.

_What's that about_? He wondered as a pair of them suddenly strode to a cage across the room and opened it up. They led the tentacled creature imprisoned within – the Doctor recognized it as a Bemmius – away.

_Now why would they do that? Experimentation? Slave-market?_

When the Bemmius was brought out, the aliens in the caged began to get rowdy, calling out and yelling, some even throwing themselves at the bars. This behaviour stopped only when their cages were shocked, but it took a little longer for the indecipherable babble to stop.

Intellectually, he recognized the patterns of Aylan, Pakuni and amazingly, something like Polari, which was a long way from home and shouldn't even be spoken here.

He blinked in realization.

None of those languages would be present in this timeframe under normal conditions. In fact – he looked around again – several of the species imprisoned with him were on the brink of being, or possibly already were, extinct.

Except for the Bemmius, he mused. That was a species that wasn't terribly populous by this time period, but still present enough to be common.

Was tht the link?

None of the people in containment spoke the same language – nothing even remotely related to make communication possible among themselves or possibly with anyone on the outside.

But the Bemmius, that one was common enough, that it could. Maybe that's why it was taken away.

_Not rare enough, _the Doctor thought. He grimaced. _Is that what this is? A menagerie or rare alien life forms_?

In which case, he was just that bit more motivated to get out of this situation and stop whoever was in charge.

Rose wasn't around to listen to him be brilliant – which he wasn't even sure she always did when they could speak the same language – but he relayed his findings to the marmoset girl beside him. His talking seemed to make her smile, and considering their dire circumstances, he figured that was a small win on his part.

She actually looked like she was really trying to pay attention to him, although her eyes kept flicking to the timer at the top of her cage. Unlike his, the numbers were different and there were fewer of them.

_Countdown, maybe_?'

He went on with his thoughts, relaying to her how he thought they were all being collected in the same place for some reason, and that he had a feeling they weren't good or happy reasons.

Given the case of the Bemmius and how antsy the other aliens had gotten at the time – they had been excited – it was as if they wanted to be taken too. For reasons other than the obvious benefits of being out of the containment units, it was a good thing to be taken.

_Maybe having a common language makes them less valuable, less rare. So they get released._

In which case, it was even more imperative to try to think around this language barrier that was forcing him to speak the words of his dead people.

He turned his focus to the girl beside him and once more tried to speak to her. Perhaps if he could bypass the language barrier – use Gallifreyan words and sounds to mimic another creature's speech patterns, he could appear to the uninformed guards to be speaking another's language?

Might work, but it would take some time.

As far as plans went, it wasn't the most harebrained that he'd ever attempted, but it was one of the less likelier to succeed.

The marmoset obviously didn't understand a word that he was saying, but she was entranced enough by his words that she moved closer to the wall in order to listen to him. He gestured to himself, offering her his chosen name and then pointing to her repeatedly.

It took a while before she realized what he wanted, and with an incredulous look she let out a high-pitched, squealing noise that he took to be her name.

_Would probably have trouble with that one even if the TARDIS was translating right, _he decided, but tried to make an approximation of the noise himself.

It was another hour before he managed to painfully twist his vocal chords into the approximation of the girl's name. She had begun to doze while listening to him, and now her head perked up in surprise.

He repeated his bastardization of the name again, and she actually smiled. He wondered how long it had been since anyone had spoken to her.

_Alright, so the plan is sound_, he decided. The problem was, he doubted he had another five hours to learn the exact words needed to rally her to his cause.

As if summoned by his thoughts, there was a sudden blaring beep from the vicinity of the girl's timer, and her face fell.

She let out a wail of despair, and backed away from the Doctor. Glancing up, he saw that two guards had appeared in front of her cage, which was now opening up.

The Doctor barked out a useless command for them to leave her alone, but they ignored him.

The one closest to her bowed, said something that the Doctor couldn't understand but which sounded like some kind of formal apologize, and then seized her. The girl tried to hang on to her cage, and the other guard ran another charge through it.

The smell of burning flesh and fur filled the air as she was forced to let go, and the Doctor began to throw himself at his door as well. He didn't know what they were doing to her, but it couldn't be anything good judging by her panic!

At from the fact that none of the other creatures were bothering to watch.

Unlike when the Bemmiush had been taken away, the captives now all faced away, almost in resignation. Like they couldn't bare what was about to happen.

The only creature with any reaction was the savage fox creature, who was panting harshly and eyeing the Doctor smugly.

_What are you so happy about?_ He wanted to know.

As if sensing his thoughts, the creature grinned grotesquely and turned to stare intently at the big screen. Slowly, as the girls cries faded away, others in the prison looked there as well.

_Oh, this cannot be good_, he decided with a swallow, and turned to study the screen himself.


	7. Chapter Seven

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p>General AN: I decided I didn't like the formatting and chapter lengths of Crossed Wires, so I spent the day fixing that. As of Chapter Three, I've added a little to certain chapters, and moved others to their own chapters. The only completely new material today is introduced in the last part of Chapter Eleven, but I highly suggest going back and rereading from the beginning because I have made certain chapters longer and added a few things in others.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>SEVEN<strong>

Rose was literally thrown to the floor of the containment unit, but even as she hit the ground her brain coached her to move.

You never knew what another person might try to do when you were unconscious, and hadn't she learned that lesson well from Jimmy?

She dragged herself to her feet, casting a quick look around to ensure no one was actually behind her, and then pulled herself into the corner. It would be able to take on any challenge if she didn't have to watch her back.

A second scan of the room gave her a better sense of her fellow inmates; there were roughly two dozen people in the cell with her, most of whom looked human and a select few who looked alien. Upon further study, she realized that it wasn't just the large, brutish individuals she had first seen upon being brought into the cage. Across the room she could actually make two huddled groups with small children, all of whom looked completely shell-shocked.

The man closest to her, middle-aged and one of the taller and bulkier ones, with periwinkle blue skin gave her a bored once over. And then he opened his mouth and said in perfect English, 'I hope you're not a screamer. There's better things you can do with your tongue while it's still in your head.'

'What?' Rose gasped, too stunned by suddenly being able to understand someone for the first time in…hours? 'You speak English!'

'Oh, you're a smart one,' the man drawled. 'Though if you'd been really smart you wouldn't have come to Quiisojeana.'

'Is that where we are?' Rose asked, looking around at the prison setting.

His expression turned shrewd. 'You're new on this moon, aren't you?'

She shot him a cold look. 'Doesn't mean I'm so green I don't know where to aim a knee if I have to.'

'Oh, she's a fighter,' he chuckled. 'Won't do you much good here, luv, or didn't the official welcome show you that?'

'What the hell is going on here?' Rose demanded, refusing to be intimidated. 'How come I can understand you? They actually speak English way out here?'

He gave her a look like she was stupid. 'Obviously.'

'And I understand you but not them…cos of the language barrier, right? Means you can't speak anything else?' she went on, wanting to confirm what she had managed to glean from the Doctor's mimed explanations. 'What's the point of that, though?'

'They really don't like strangers here,' the man told her with a shrug. 'There's a warning for in the entire solar system that outsiders aren't allowed to come here. If you pass a certain radius, the tractor beam around the planet brings any vessel in its range to the surface. And if your first language happens to be something other than Quiisojeanan? Well, obviously you're a spy.'

'So that's why we're here? They think we're spies?'

'Pretty much,' he shrugged. He paused and then offered her a hand. 'Eugene Aiolfi.'

'Rose Tyler,' she replied, giving his hand a brief shake and looking around. 'How d'you know all this? If they speak their language and you speak English?'

'The barrier only went up about five years ago. Those of us who live down on Niho – that's this moon's primary – know the story, and there were people who spoke an alien mother tongue that lived here when the barrier went up. Most went into hiding, seeing as how getting off this moon is impossible.'

'And the Quiis…Quiso…the Q-people think everyone is spying on them? Even the kids? Is that why we're all in here, we're waiting to explain what we're doing here?'

Eugene gave her a pitying look. 'Not even close, I'm afraid. The only way you leave this cage is if you're ransomed or processed.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning the Quiisojeanans don't believe in our right to a trial, but they like to think they're benevolent captors all the same. You get twenty-four hours from when they first pick you up for someone on the outside to claim you – they post your details and everything. If someone knows you're missing, they also know to check here. If they identify you, then you'll be ransomed back.'

'And the Quiis…things are _allowed_ to do this?'

'According to intergalactic statutes, the rules are clearly defined. Any ship travelling to and from Niho know the risks of getting to close to this moon,' Eugene explained. 'If you have the shit luck to end up here, the authorities leave you to it. Unless you're important. Some spoiled rich brat out joyriding a cruiser with their friends.'

Rose shook her head in disbelief. 'So what happens if no one pays the ransom for you?'

'You get processed.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning they cut out your tongue and send you off to work manual labor for the rest of your life.'

Rose felt like she had been punched in the stomach.

'Okay, well, that's not happening,' she decided, feeling quite strong about that.

Eugene looked amused. 'And what do you think you're going to do to stop it?'

'No idea,' Rose answered. 'Yet.'

She didn't know how she was supposed to come up with a plan, either. She decided to do what the Doctor did: get the as much information as possible in order to make a plan.

_Talking of the Doctor_, she thought grimly, and asked, 'Where do they keep other inmates? I'm looking for a friend of mine that I…lost track of.'

'If he's English-speaking, he'll end up here eventually,' Eugene answered. 'If not, they've probably got him in another section of the prison.'

Rose ran a frustrated hand through her hair. 'I don't get it…not liking foreigners I understand, but this is just stupid.'

'Quiisojeana has a history of alienating a lot of people,' Eugene agreed. 'They don't take too well to change, either. This little speck of rock's been ruled by the same dynasty for over three thousand years, but it only got real bad about thirty years ago.'

'Why, what happened?'

'The last _imo_ didn't have a son.'

'The…what?'

'The imo. The ruler. According to Quiisojeanan law, only a son can inherit the seat of power around here. And the last one didn't have any sons, or any younger male relatives to pass the throne to – which is kind of amazing, considering the man had three hundred concubines in addition to his wife.'

'How's that possible?' Rose asked. She wasn't very good at math, but she knew that there was something to do with averages and probability that should have made that impossible.

'There was a plague around that time that wiped out a third of the moon's population, and it hit the male population pretty hard,' Eugene explained. 'His oldest surviving child was his daughter Nekane.'

'So she inherited.'

'Sort of. The imo had to do a lot of political and legal wrangling to manage even that little bit of change. In order to keep the dynasty going, his daughter could inherit the title, but he had to offer her in marriage to one of his more progressive rivals from the next most important family. Just to make sure there wouldn't be a civil war.'

'That's awful,' Rose said, the idea of an arranged marriage distasteful to her.

'Yeah, she wasn't too happy about it – but before you feel too sorry for her, you should know that Nekane's the most xenophobic members of the aristocracy,' Eugene cautioned. 'She considers anyone not Quiisojeanan to be little more than an animal. Which was a bit of a problem for her, seeing as how her husband's family was descended from a group of aliens that landed here a thousand years ago.'

'So she must have hated her husband,' Rose realized, and then something else occurred to her. 'Did they have children?'

'One child – I think that's all she could force herself to tolerate. And she disliked her son as much as her husband. They both knew it, too. When her husband died a few years later, he left a group of regents to raise the kid instead of her.'

'I take it that didn't happen?'

'They tried to keep her out of the running of things – but when she realized that, she staged a coup,' Eugene agreed. 'She got rid of the regents, took back control over her son and said she was ruling in his name until he got older – except she started calling herself _ime_ Nakane, which sort of tipped people off that she intended to stay.'

'And no one stopped her?'

'Hard to stop the legal ruler,' Eugene shrugged. 'Especially when she deals with her problems by executing anyone who annoys her. There's a zero-tolerance policy in effect that means even first-time offenders are executed.'

'I can't believe no one's stood up to her!'

'Quiisojeanans are used to doing as their ruler says, and any new ideas about rights and reform don't circulate much,' he told her. 'She's made a point of rejecting any ideas introduced from anyone off-planet. When she first took power, she started cracking down on the foreigners that had come to live here during the reign of her ancestors. First their permission to mingle with the population, then being seen in public. Eventually that moved on to a ban against anyone from off-world landing here, and then…well, you're in here, aren't you?'

Rose was shaking her head, unable to believe it. 'What about her son? Isn't he old enough now to take over?'

'He's been dead for years,' Eugene answered. 'He spent most of his life in isolation because she wouldn't let him be seen in public. Figured someone might use him as a rallying point. I heard he died stuffing his face.'

'So there's no one to carry on the line now – isn't that against the law?'

'She's got a nephew – younger sister's kid – who she's saying she's ruling for right now. Except she had him placed under house arrest recently for supporting a group of Quiisojeanans that wanted reform. They actually tried to get rid of her and set him up as imo, but it didn't work out – in fact, that's when this language business happened.'

'Why?'

'The only reason the plot nearly succeeded was because the conspirators spoke a different language,' Eugene confided. 'Lucky for her, one of her guards spoke it too and figured out what was going on – but she lost one of her court favorites that night. The whole incident made her crack down on foreigners for good. She had her scientific advisors create a language field around the moon to make sure everyone was forced to talk in a way that would be understood by her.'

'Blimey,' Rose breathed. 'A bit overkill, that.'

'You think?' Eugene challenged. 'She also sent a warning to her nephew by having his wife executed.'

'His wife? Why?'

'She was in on the coup, you see? I think she figured if the nephew got in, she might see a share of power as well.'

'Is that when she started this…de-tonguing thing?'

'About then, yeah.'

She looked around at the ragtag bunch she had found herself with. Most of them looked like they should be out doing their groceries or something mundane, and while there was the large bunch she had seen upon being brought to the containment area – the biggest man there was well over seven feet – upon studying them now she saw the telltale signs of bruises and broken bones that suggested they had fought already – and lost.

Still, that was no excuse to just give up.

She gestured around. 'And you lot are just going to sit here and let that happen?'

'Not much else we can do. It's either that or death,' Eugene shrugged. 'Once they've processed you, they send you somewhere else. More chance to escape, in my view. Don't need a tongue to do that.'

'My friend would disagree with you there,' she told him. If anyone could escape and then put this entire system right, probably with just a few well-chosen words and a bit of luck, it was the Doctor.

'Besides, once I get out of here, there's places that can regrow body parts.'

'I'd rather not have them cut off in the first place,' she sighed, looking around her cellmates speculatively.

She had to think of something to say to them, some way of convincing them that sitting around waiting for their tongues to be cut out wasn't the way to do things.

She really wished the Doctor was there right then.

_He'd know exactly what to say_, she thought morosely.


	8. Chapter Eight

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>General AN:<strong> I decided I didn't like the formatting and chapter lengths of Crossed Wires, so I spent the day fixing that. As of Chapter Three, I've added a little to certain chapters, and moved others to their own chapters. The only completely new material today is introduced in the last part of Chapter Eleven, but I highly suggest going back and rereading from the beginning because I have made certain chapters longer and added a few things in others.

**Chapter AN**: We saw Nine use the ability I mention in this chapter once, and then never again. I thought there should be an actually reason behind it, and not just that the writers likely forgot about it :P Also, can anyone guess what a Sxaravid might be? Oh, and on that note…there's a bit of violence in this chapter. Nothing too descriptive and explicit, but it's there.

* * *

><p><strong>EIGHT<strong>

The Doctor's eyes remained fixed on the screen above the dank cages, unease filling him. He had thought at first that it was a sports screen, or some kind of internal communication device where his captors got their orders from. Perhaps it was used to disseminate a call to worship, in a similar way that Muslims on Earth used the _adhan_ to call the faithful to prayer.

He hoped it was something peaceful like that, but a part of him knew his hopes were going to be thwarted.

The camera didn't pan into a close-up, providing only a distant shot from somewhere a top the arena. Upon studying the arena closer, the Doctor found it resembled the ancient theaters of the Greeks, but hued the very rock of the barren planet. It was also much larger, possibly having the capacity to hold a million of the bear creatures. That was the population that seemed to be filling in most of the space there, although he saw other species peppered throughout the stands. His theory concerning the Bemmius seemed to have been confirmed, because he saw at least one of those in the stands as well.

He couldn't be sure at this distance, but the aliens didn't look terribly well-off compared to the native species. Upon catching sight of scraggly looking human following one of the bear creatures around, that certainty increased.

In the middle of the arena was a thick pole the same colour as the ground.

He doubted it was something as innocuous as a maypole.

The bad feeling was increasing, and although he didn't know exactly what was happening, his mind was only too happy to supply him with as many dire possibilities as it could.

A stake with which to carry out burnings? Perhaps these people were still primitive enough to believe off-worlders to be witches or monsters that needed to be cleansed? He'd experienced that enough time in his life to recognize the signs. Of course, that didn't explain why there were certain minorities present in the stands.

Off-worlds might be considered prime stock for a slave class, he figured. But then why were he and his fellow rare linguists being kept here?

The Doctor considered the arena again.

Gladiatorial games, possibly?

Couldn't be – the marmoset girl was no fighter. Most societies that employed circuses as a means of entertainment ensured that the combatants were strong enough to provide some kind of entertainment.

He was still puzzling over it as on screen, the tiny figures of the bear creatures appeared from a doorway, dragging the still struggling form of the girl with them.

The Doctor clenched his fists, having to keep back from the bars of his cage lest another shock be directed at him, and watched as the girl was brought to the stake and fastened to it by her captors.

Everything went quiet then, and high above one side of the arena, he could see movement. It was obviously some sort of VIP or presidential box, because the bear creature standing there was kitted out in the most elaborate robes and headdress, and flanked on all sides by more guards.

_So you're the one in charge_, he thought bitterly as the creature began to speak, presumably addressing the people in the stands. It then gestured down toward the victim at the stake and made a violent, clawing motion.

The Doctor's eyes flew to the girl, and watched in horror as at least a hundred long, pointed blades ejected from within the stake like the spikes of an iron maiden.

He felt an agonized snarl of denial rip from his throat as the blades bunched through the girl's little body, even as silence echoed in the rest of the underground prison. The only sound was the lurid panting of the fox creature, likely in response to the bloodshed.

The Doctor was disgusted, both with the creature, and the society he had suddenly found himself in.

Addressing the remaining guards in the room, he angrily demanded what the purpose of that had been. The girl hadn't harmed anyone – her only crime had been to speak a different language from the natives.

It was the only crime that any of them seemed to have committed.

_Well there's definitely no question now,_ he thought in cold fury. _This ends now._

He had seen plenty of bloodthirsty and needlessly cruel civilizations, but this one – exercise in contradiction though it seemed – would stay in his memory for years after this, he knew.

He couldn't allow another such pointless execution to happen again.

Which meant his need for escape had just become that much more important.

With effort, he moved his anger and sadness at the young girl's unfair demise to the back of his mind, and focused on his own situation.

If he had the right of the calculations, converting local time to something more relevant to him, he wasn't going to be let out of his cage for another twenty-four hours. That would be a last resort, considering if he were being let out of confinement, it would only be to become a pincushion in front of a million aliens.

True, he'd regenerate once they let him loose – but he really didn't want to tempt that particular hand of fate.

What he needed was to find some kind of ally in this dungeon of people who couldn't understand each other.

The guards were out for obvious reasons – he didn't believe there was a sympathetic one in the bunch of them, especially now that he knew they had participated in and watched the brutal slaughter of innocents every day for however long this sham of a set-up had been allowed to go on for.

It would have to be one of the aliens who was bound to be released before him. Somehow, he had to convince someone that was about to be executed that instead of fighting for their freedom, they should release him.

The regeneration option was looking more and more likely by the second.

Scanning the cages for clues as to who was going to be released next – it was a bit difficult, considering he didn't exactly have the best angle to see those who were imprisoned on the same side of the dungeon as him – he calculated that the most likely next victim was the Aylan across from him.

A short, Neanderthal like creature with black fur and dull eyes, it had perhaps another half hour before its time wound down.

_Great, now how am I supposed to…?_

His thoughts trailed off as he suddenly remembered something very important about the Aylans. Their language was equal parts spoken and equal parts reliant on significant gestures. If he was able to communicate with him that way…

He waved frantically at it for several minutes, before finally managing to get it's attention.

'_Greeting_,'he managed, knowing that relying on only half a language was going to make this a challenge. '_I Medicine Man, you name?'_

The Aylan cocked its head to one side, seeming confused and a bit surprised, and answered back, both with hand gestures and in his native tongue. The first bit didn't translate, but the second part came through. _'Son Cavak. Speak how?'_

'_Very smart,' _the Doctor returned. '_Visit Aylor many day-nights behind_.'

'_Home_,' the Aylan signed, a bit dejected. '_Far. Never see.'_

'_Can save, need help. Your long-sleep soon?'_

It was the closest concept to death that the Aylans had to death. The Aylan glanced up at his cage timer, and made an affirmative gesture.

'_Yes.'_

'_Son Cavak help Medicine Man out cage. Button? Moving-stick? Out cage.'_

Bollocks, this was harder than it appeared!

'_Why help?' _the Aylan wanted to know. _'Not me., you…pick me.'_

'_Stuck-up important lord of day-night-gone, day-night-now and day-night-to come,' _the Doctor managed, wincing at how imprecise the term Time Lord translated without the linguistic connectives that would make more sense. '_Lived after big fight across many day-nights and spaces. Much strength. Stop much-killing Aylans not-Aylans.'_

Now the Aylan looked surprised, and his dulled eyes became more focussed. '_You Lord of Day-Night-All?'_

'_Yes.'_

The Aylan stared him down for a longer amount of time than the Doctor would have liked, but eventually he made a gesture of acceptance. '_Son Cavak help. Long-sleep come, you Aylor? Family?'_

The Doctor's hearts twinged. The poor creature knew as well as him the odds of their success, and knew he was resigned to die despite the Doctor's plans.

'_Lord of Day-Night-All Oath,_' he signed, knowing that even if things did end badly, he would do his utmost to keep it.

When the alarm blared for the Aylan, two guards came to his cage, as they had with the last unlucky victim. They made the same strange bow and spoke the same unintelligible phrase as they had used with the marmoset girl, then drew the alien out of his cage.

The Aylan went quietly, not struggling as she had, and they led him forward. As the guards and their captive reached the point closest to the Doctor's cage, he shut his eyes on concentrated.

Using senses that even now hurt too much to rely on fully, he prepared himself to draw on the still raw ability to slow time. It had hurt enough to use that on Platform One, when it was only his own timeline that was directly affected, but concentrating on the time of three other living creatures was something completely different.

When he opened his eyes, the Aylan was looking his way. It nodded imperceptibly, and suddenly burst into movement. The Doctor deliberately slowed the time around the guards. With them lagging behind, the Aylan would be able to use precious seconds to help him by throwing a switch of something. Once free, he'd be able to help save the –

Waves of pain washed over the Doctor, his awareness of the three timelines he focussed on threatening to become more attuned to every timeline in the surrounding area. This wasn't the same peek at the timelines that had allowed him to slip through the giant turbines of a satellite, the longer the effort, the more likely the pain of using ignored senses would knock him out.

Tears of effort crept from his eyes, and if he could just manage a little longer – the Aylan was searching now for something to help him, the guards' movement slowed to a slow crawl –

Right before he had to pull back, there was a _thwack!_ sound from right in front of him and the Aylan's eyes went wide, before turning dull.

It slumped over, one of the bear-aliens spear weapons protruding from his back. It had been thrown by one of the guards near the door, that the Doctor hadn't been concentrating on.

The newly freed guards, looking a bit confused at to what had just happened, hurried forward and dragged the Aylan's crumpled form out of the aisle. Along the cages, there was silence, but some of the captives were staring at the dead creature with both pity and admiration.

The fox savage was salivating again.


	9. Chapter Nine

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>General AN:<strong> I decided I didn't like the formatting and chapter lengths of Crossed Wires, so I spent the day fixing that. As of Chapter Three, I've added a little to certain chapters, and moved others to their own chapters. The only completely new material today is introduced in the last part of Chapter Eleven, but I highly suggest going back and rereading from the beginning because I have made certain chapters longer and added a few things in others.

* * *

><p><strong>NINE<strong>

_Bugger it_, Rose thought irreverently as she looked around the containment unit once more. _The Doctor wouldn't just sit here waiting for someone else to save the world. He'd be doing it._

Facing them all, she raised her voice and demanded, 'So are you lot just gonna sit here and let them take your freedom away? All cos you ended up here on accident?'

'What are you doing?!' Eugene hissed.

'Sitting on your arses ain't gonna get anything done,' Rose went on, ignoring them. 'You've got to stand up and fight. If we do that, they'll know they can't just treat us this way!'

'Do we look like fighters to you?' a middle aged woman answered crossly. 'I'm a spice farmer. At least I know that manual labor, I've a chance of surviving.'

'So just cos freedom isn't being handed to you, you won't even try for it?' Rose demanded. 'They've got no right to do this to us, I don't care how many intergalactic statutes let them. This is wrong!' There were shared glances, and rueful whispers. 'Come on, haven't you ever heard of the Shadow Proclamation? They've got to have something to say about this!'

Well, she wasn't completely sure on that front, but it was something the Doctor had thrown about once, and she needed to convince these people to do something.

She got the unpleasant sense she wasn't the first one to try to rally the captives, but as a group they had just resigned themselves to the worst. After all, with a changeover of twenty-four hours, no one was here long enough to be able to get support to try something. Perhaps that was the brilliance of the Quiisojeanan operation.

'What's the point of talking to you?' she sighed. 'You've all given up already.'

She was met with silence.

There was a sudden sense of anticipation in the air that didn't come from her words, and she realized that two of the guards had come over to the containment space and were unlocking it. They had long batons with them that emitted some kind of static sound, and Rose decided they must be electrified.

From the way the captives moved to give them a wide berth, she must have been right.

While one guard stayed put, the other strode forward to one of the little families in the back corner. He gave them an order in his warbling language, and the woman let out a wordless moan and tightened her grip on her child.

'Have they been ransomed?' Rose asked quietly as the scene unfolded.

'Unlikely,' Eugene said. 'I heard they lost everything on their home planet and came out this way looking for a better life. They're probably bound for the mines, so I guess that's sort of better than starving to death in space.'

'Can't we do anything?'

'Not unless you feel like volunteering your time for theirs.'

Rose looked over at the plainly terrified little boy, how was now clinging to his father's leg as the bear creature began to prod them toward the door, and her heart hurt.

She stepped forward, but Eugene grabbed hold of her shoulder and hissed, 'That wasn't a suggestion, you know!'

'Someone's got to do something!' Rose shot back, shrugging his hand off.

'It's pointless! You can't even save all three of them – the Quiisojeanans are here for three bodies, they'll still take the parents. All you're doing is separating a family and delaying the inevitable.'

'Then get over here with me.'

'Are you crazy?'

'You said yourself there's nothing else for you to do. Might as well get it done now. Sooner you can escape, right?' Rose argued. 'I dunno about you, but if I'm about to lose my tongue, I'd like to know I gave a family another day being able to talk to each other instead of losing it just cos some ruler doesn't like aliens.'

And she moved through the crowd of aliens that had gathered away from the weapon-wielding Quiisojeanan and headed for the family. As her fellow English-speakers realized what she was doing, whispers broke out and some shook their heads, while others tried to talk her out of it.

To her surprise, as she reached the family, she heard a grunt from behind her, 'Vort damn it, woman, you owe me for this.'

The Quiisojeanan noticed them now, and whirled around to bark something at them – probably to get back or some other threat.

'No, you take me,' Rose ordered, pointing to herself and then the terrified looking boy. 'Take me instead of him.'

'I'll go for the woman,' Eugene rumbled, pointing at the mother who looked like she wasn't quite sure what was happening.

The guard cocked his head to one side, like he was considering it but not completely sold.

'I will go instead of the man,' a deep voice from behind Rose said, and she saw the biggest and meanest looking convict-type bloke in the room step forward. He gestured to the father of the family and then to himself.

Possibly because of his size, the guard looked intrigued, and then finally gave a nod of agreement. He said something to his guard companion, who called out and summoned a third guard with a shock baton.

Rose let them lead the three of them out of their prison, holding her head high and trying to show the people in the cell that the smallest bit of forethought could make a difference. She wasn't like the Doctor, she couldn't instill confidence in people within minutes of meeting them, but she hoped what she had done left an impression. Maybe they would tell others, and someone would do something in the future.

Stepping back into the surgically clean hallway, she knew she couldn't think any more on the fate of the people who were still locked up, because she had to figure out a way to escape before she had her tongue cut out.

If she could just get free and find the Doctor, he would be able to fix this. She just…needed to find him. Which was easier said than done.

'Any other bright ideas?' Eugene muttered to her under his breath as they were led past other containment units, these ones holding alien-looking types. Some were only in pairs, like the two tentacle-looking creatures she passed, while others were almost as numerous as the humans and other English speakers had been.

Rose tried to see if the Doctor was in any of the cages – he'd likely be in one by himself, she figured – but not luck there.

'Not yet,' she answered back, forcing her mind back on the matter at hand. If she couldn't find the Doctor, she was going to have to use her environment to get her out. That was what he did, right?

To her consternation, she and the two men were split up and brought into different rooms. Eugene shot her a filthy look as they did so, while the nameless brute that had offered himself so silently remained resigned.

She felt guilty for not asking his name.

The guilt only increased when she saw the room they had brought her to. While the outer hallways were nothing but white stone walls, giving a feeling of sterility, this room was anything but. It looked like the cross between her dentist's workspace and some sort of medieval torture room.

It was lit with gas light, the way everything else was, which cast shadows across the sinister looking metal chair with leather straps. It was also covered in bloodstains, and when she looked at the tools nearby, she knew why.

Instead of clean instruments, or anything sterile and futuristic like she had come to expect when travelling away from home, it looked like the knives and clamps in here had never touched water.

Suddenly Mickey's dirty mugs didn't seem as horrible to her.

Her captor seemed to think that because she had volunteered for this that she wouldn't give him any trouble, and she intended to make him regret that misjudgement.

'To hell with this,' she decided, and kicked back hard with the heel of her foot. She didn't aim for his feet – hooves probably weren't as sensitive as toes – but for the joint above it, hoping that a broken ankle was as serious for one of the Quiisojeanans as she'd heard it was for horses.

Her captor let out a gravelly scream, and Rose wasted no time jerking away from him and as far from the door as she could manage.

As though waiting for her signal, both Eugene and the other man shouldered away from their guards, managing to follow after Rose. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew that that little room was lowest on her list right now.

'That way!' Eugene yelled, nodding at the door at the end of the hall. It could hide either salvation or more prison cells, but Rose didn't care at this point.

The guards were yelling in their unintelligible language, and the nameless man who had helped them was hurrying far ahead, slipping through the door and out of sight. From the lack of noise beyond that point, Rose took it to mean they had been lucky – no guards on the other side.

'Hurry –' Eugene started to yell, but it ended up a garbled moan of pain. She didn't dare look back to see what had happened, knowing what that sort of time might cost. She had to get out, had to find the Doctor, put all this right –

She managed to make it almost to the door, before a excruciating burst of static coursed through her and she found herself once more face down on the floor. Pain zipped through her from her back, and she struggled to breathe.

One of the guards had managed to lob his shock baton at her, catching her in the shoulder with a charge.

She was still trying to make herself able to breathe – already painful given the implant in her nose – when she was hauled into a kneeling position in front of one of the guards. He glared down at her with beady black eyes, and said something more than a bit threatening in his language.

Eugene was dragged over to kneel beside her, looking a paler hue of periwinkle.

'If it makes you feel any better?' he told her, voice still wry despite the effort to talk, 'they're probably not going to take your tongue now.'

_Depends how pissed off they are, _Rose thought grimly, trying to meet the angry glance of her captor. _This one might just take it out with his claws, by the look of him._

He was already reaching for her chin with one paw, the other tightening around his shock baton.

_If he doesn't just ram that down my throat_, she thought, panicked. Fear swelled in her stomach, and she tried to think of some way, any way that she could make it out of this predicament.

Maybe she should have just let them take her tongue to begin with – Eugene had said there were places where she could have it replaced, and suddenly waiting for a better opportunity to escape sounded really good and really, since landing here she'd made a series of bad decisions, why had the Doctor even bothered bringing someone as stupid as her along –

There was an explosion of sound, and Rose saw a wave of something blue flash across the hallway above her head. When it came in contact with the Quiisojeanan guards, they flew backwards, hitting the wall before slumping to the ground.

They didn't move again.

Rose didn't have time to dwell on this before hands – human ones – grabbed her from behind and she found herself being pulled along the corridor.

Her stunned mind flashed automatically to the Doctor, but this hope was shattered when someone barked in ear, 'Move, move!'

'Move, move!' someone yelled in English.

There were many people in the hallways now – countless bodies, both human-looking and not, all making a run for it. Somehow, she'd lucked into some sort of prison break.

Her head whipped around as she ran, trying to make the Doctor out in the crowd, but he didn't seem to be anywhere.

'Stop, I need to find my friend!' she tried to yell at whoever was pushing her forward, making her run, but her words were lost in the din. Guards were pouring out of other rooms now, going after the escaping prisoners and whoever it was that was helping her, and she found herself maneuvered away from the fighting and out into the open, smoggy air.

The next thing she knew, she was being shoved into some kind of vehicle – not a litter like she had come there in, but an old-fashioned looking van – and it was taking off, away from the compound.

The assortment of people in the car were looking confused and apprehensive. She saw that Eugene and her other fellow volunteer had made it out, as well as the little family they had stepped in for. The latter were talking excitedly to the oafish man, probably thanking him.

Rose picked her way through the huddled figures to her blue friend.

'What the hell just happened?' she demanded.

He gave her an excited, slightly disbelieving look and say, 'Welcome to the Resistance, I think.'


	10. Chapter Ten

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>General AN:<strong> I decided I didn't like the formatting and chapter lengths of Crossed Wires, so I spent the day fixing that. As of Chapter Three, I've added a little to certain chapters, and moved others to their own chapters. The only completely new material today is introduced in the last part of Chapter Eleven, but I highly suggest going back and rereading from the beginning because I have made certain chapters longer and added a few things in others.

* * *

><p><strong>TEN<strong>

For a long while, the Doctor stood in silent repose at what had just transpired.

Guilt and pain washed over him at having gotten another innocent person killed, all because he was trying to free himself. The logical part of him – the stuffy Time Lord part that he had taken to ignoring – argued that the end justified the means. The other part of him – the one that had always rebelled at such logic, reminded him that he had at least given the Aylan a fighting chance.

Son Cavak had not died tied to a stake in an arena, murdered in front of millions. He had died in battle, sort of, and that was important to his culture.

If the Doctor was given the chance, he would fight too. Until the last.

'_We'll go down fighting, yeah?'_ a voice murmured in his memories. '_Together?'_

Memories of that basement in Cardiff returned to him, Rose's innocence and bravado in the face of certain death, and he flexed his fingers once more. He imagined the phantom feel of her fingers against his, missing her by his side but so very glad that she hadn't been caught up in all of this.

He used the memory of her bravery – of her forgiveness – to bolster him.

He needed to harden his hearts against his guilt of the Aylan's death because it was too important that he get out of here now. He had to save this moon from the travesty of a government and get back to Rose and the TARDIS.

_Oh, Rassilon, what if she left the TARDIS?_

He'd said an hour, and it had definitely been more than that! Even if there was technically no time in the TARDIS, Rose would be counting down – on the damned watch he had given her – and would get worried. She wasn't exactly a patient person to begin with, and he could just imagine that she might –

_No. No, she wouldn't. She's smart, she knows how stupid it would be to leave the TARDIS on an alien world with no way of communicating. _

He hoped.

It was another worry that he had to force out of his mind. Thinking on it wouldn't help him escape from here. And if the timer on his cage was any indication, he likely didn't have more than a day to figure out a solution.

If only he had –

He could feel eyes on him, in the focused way of someone actively staring. It was different from the speculative look the other aliens had been giving him whenever he did something like test the electric bars or attempt to communicate with anyone. This was more focused, intense – thoughtful in a way that suggested something was trying to categorize him.

Before he could decipher that, though, he was nearly bowled over by the sudden, shocking brush of something against his consciousness.

A query of some sort.

He looked up, seeking the origin of it with both his eyes and his mind, and found himself staring being watched from a cage across from him and a few rows over. The heavy-boned alien held there was humanoid in shape and size, but taller than a human male. Its eyes were slits, and its flattened face scrunched forward like someone had seized it and pulled it down to its chin. It would've been a brave move for anyone to try, considering the mouth full of sharp fangs…

A Sxaravid.

_What the hell is that doing here?_

Sxaravids were pretty much the universe equivalent of a dung beetle. Their entire life revolved around consuming the deleterious of life – rubbish, clothing, space junk, concrete – though their preferred diet was meat-based. They also happened to be chrono-sensitive and gravitated toward areas of high temporal activity because of the amount of organic and inorganic material ended up drawn to there.

Although strong and faster than many sentient bipedal species, they were actually one of the more primitive devolutions the human race would one day take. They had no recognizable language, but were mildly telepathic, which they relied on along with their strong empathic senses, to communicate.

What one was doing in here among the rare specimen of alien that the Doctor had so far categorized, he didn't know – but he imagined it had something to do with the savage nature of the Sxaravid species.

Maybe the bear-aliens realized that putting more than one Sxaravid in an area with another was asking for trouble. They weren't cannibals, but get them together and they'd quickly overrun a place like locusts.

Not that any of that mattered to the Doctor right now. Because Sxaravids had enough telepathic ability to communicate.

Granted, it would be imprecise and painful, considering how long it had been since he tried to communicate with someone without using touch to ground himself – and that wasn't even taking in to account how painful it was just to feel another mind in the empty space where the other Time Lords had always resided – but it would have to do.

He closed his eyes and focussed, drumming up the strength remaining to him after his failed attempt at slowing time for the Aylan. He would not me attempting that particular trick again any time soon, if ever.

The Doctor had to force himself not to wince at the shock of intentionally touching another mind with his. He knew intellectually that the aching was more psychosomatic than anything else, but it didn't stop his heartsrate increasing in response to pain stimuli.

If the Sxaravid noticed his pain, it didn't remark on it. In fact, the alien seemed greatly humbled by the Doctor for some reason that he couldn't quite –

Ah.

He remembered now.

Sxaravids had a great reverence for Death, and this one could sense that he was still recovering from a war that had been rife with it. The Doctor knew that the scent must surround him, that the reek of loss and pain had become so firmly entwined with his being that he would probably never be without it again.

The creature's thoughts once again brushed against his own, another query and then an offer.

The Doctor felt sick just parsing it, for the Sxaravid was implying that it would help the Doctor, even though it was aware its death was assured. In fact, like the Aylan, it seemed quite intent on it. It believed that there would be great honor in its demise if it served the Bringer of Darkness in its final moments.

The Doctor recoiled slightly at both the name and the offer.

Even in his desperation, the idea of causing yet another death so soon after the first made his skin crawl.

It reminded him too strongly of _that_ time. The period of his life that he strove every day to forget, to push to the back of his mind.

Using another creature for his own purposes was so Time Lord, so _not_ the way of the Doctor, and situations like this just kept popping up.

He swallowed, fighting back those thoughts. He couldn't afford to think like that right now. What had he said to Rose?

'_This is who I am, right here, right now, all right? All that counts is here and now, and this is me.'_

Past actions and past guilt couldn't enter into things right now, not if he was going to save these people. And anyone else hurt by the regime. And Rose, if she was being her jeopardy friendly self and wandering about up there like she shouldn't be but which he suspected she might be.

And at the end of that list, of course, there was himself. He had to keep going, didn't he? Gallifrey had to keep living through him, and it wouldn't do if he was turned into a pincushion in front of millions of panda horse aliens with an aversion to foreigners.

He forced himself to accept the Sxaravid's offer.

There was little other choice, he knew, and although he was doubtful that this would have a decent resolution, he might be able to impress upon the Sxaravid not to cause too much harm.

This time when the timer went off, there were at least four guards that went to get the Sxaravid.

Evidently the Doctor's thoughts on why it had been locked away were correct – they probably knew its nature from painful personal experience.

As with the Aylan, the Sxaravid allowed itself to be led from its pen and remained relatively calm, its attention on the four weapons surrounding it as the guards led it up the aisle. As before, the majority of the imprisoned aliens looked away, and the fox savage seemed to bounce on the spot, eager for more bloodshed.

_I hope for the sake of your kind you're just an aberration, _he thought to the creature. It wasn't many species he was glad were extinct, but this one was close to being added to the Doctor's very short list.

The Sxaravid remained compliant until just in front of the Doctor's cage. Then it suddenly threw itself forward, snarling like it intended to attack the Doctor, while apparently trying to break it open with its bare hands.

Electricity ran through the bars, shocking it, but in its adrenaline fueled rage it didn't seem to notice. The guards tried to contain it again, the four of them surrounding it and attempting to jolt it with their batons.

They hemmed it in against the bars, and the smell of burning flesh got worse – with it, the Doctor felt the last shreds of rational sentience disappear as well. He tried to caution it, to bring it back to itself and keep it on task.

The Sxaravid suddenly whirled around and tore into the throat of one of the guards. There was a pained, surprised yell that devolved into gurgling, and the Doctor yelled in protest at this, trying to tell the Sxaravid that this wasn't needed, but it didn't seem to hear him.

It was beyond listening to even the Bringer of Darkness, it seemed.

More guards had joined the fray, and in the melee the Doctor almost didn't notice something small and metallic slide across the floor and through the gap in his cage until he stepped on it.

Just as he picked up the key shaped object to secret away, the consciousness of the Sxaravid abruptly disappeared. He could see that the many guards now surrounding the beast had finally managed to put enough of an electrical charge through it that its heart had stopped.

The finality of it hit the Doctor like a physical blow. He had forgotten to shield himself from the creature's thoughts.

The guards must have suspected that the Doctor had been instigating things, because a vicious charge went through his cage as well, causing his knees to buckle and him to slump to the floor.

Luckily, they seemed so bound by their own rules and protocol that they didn't move his execution time, because the numbers stayed the same. There was also no indication anyone was coming to let him out now.

Which was good, because now he had a tool with which to get out.

From his place on the floor, he saw the other aliens looked down at him now, seeming intent and keen or curious as to why two prisoners now had tried to free him from his cage.

_Looks like I've got a captive audience_, he thought grimly, trying not to think of what Rose would have said to that had she been there.

Right now he had to pull together a plan, knowing it would all hinge on the moment when they let him out. He had no idea how much time he had, having not figured out the exact numbers on his timer yet, and he had to orchestrate all of it without words.


	11. Chapter Eleven

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p>General AN: I decided I didn't like the formatting and chapter lengths of Crossed Wires, so I spent the day fixing that. As of Chapter Three, I've added a little to certain chapters, and moved others to their own chapters. The only completely new material today is in this chapter, but I highly suggest going back and rereading from the beginning because I have made certain chapters longer and added a few things in others.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>ELEVEN<strong>

Wherever it was they had taken her and the other prisoners, Rose thought it looked an awful lot like a refugee camp. And not just for aliens, it seemed, because she saw several of the Quiisojeanans there as well – only instead of wielding shock batons and such, they seemed to be directing people from place to place or carrying supplies to and fro.

Also, unlike the ones that had arrested her, these ones were dressed much more casually and practically.

Rose, Eugene and the other rescued prisoners found themselves herded into a large common area. The place buzzed with the sound of many languages together, but this was more of a background noise than anything else. She noticed as she looked closer that alien and Quiisojeanan alike appeared to be able to communicate with some sort of common sign language.

This sign was being used to try to converse with the newcomers, but Rose did notice that there were some cases – such as with the English speakers and that strange tentacle thing – where they were numerous enough to warrant someone speaking to them in their own language.

There was an East Indian looking woman at the head of Rose's and Eugene's group who was projecting her voice loudly over the questions and concerns being shouted at her by scared and confused refugees.

'The rules are simple, and will be explained to you in full later on: you don't have to fight, but you have to work. Everyone works, everyone pulls their weight – you don't like it, you leave. Simple as that. And if you think the Qs will be so hospitable the next time…well, we don't have mental health facilities here, so you're on your own…'

Rose looked around, seeing that beyond the common room people of every species seemed to be on guard duty, making weapons, fixing thing or cleaning up.

'…before you get your assignments, you must attend a brief lesson on the basic Sign as it's the only way everyone has to communicate. Other lessons will be forthcoming, but these you need to know – trust me, you don't want to forget the sign for the shitter any time in the future!' There were a few nervous laughs at that.

They were starting to be herded again, and Rose fought her way to the front of the crowd to address the woman.

'I need help,' she told her. 'I'm looking for my friend – we came here together, but he doesn't speak English, so could you – ?'

'You can look for lost people later,' the woman told her bluntly. 'Right now, you've got to learn your Sign and get your assignment.'

'But –'

'Move along, people, we haven't got all day!' the woman called over Rose's head, completely dismissing her.

More prisoners shoved past Rose, cutting her off from the woman before she could demand any more answers.

'Just do as you're told,' she heard Eugene tell her quietly, and he was pushing her along with the crowd. 'From what I heard, the Resistance doesn't give a lot of second chances.'

'Funny how you didn't mention them when we were in the cage,' Rose grumbled.

'Why would I? I had less than twelve hours before I was going to be processed, and you weren't likely to escape fast enough to get to them,' Eugene snorted. 'We're just extremely lucky they decided to have one of their prison raids today.'

They entered a smaller room, arranged like a classroom only instead of desks and chairs there were crates and sacks of supplies.

'So who's in charge of this Resistance, then? That bitchy lady back there?' Rose wanted to know. 'How'd all this get started, even, if people can't speak the same language?'

'No one knows the exact details,' Eugene answered, 'but the popular version starts with Mellan Murphy and Rai Ula Hoifan.'

Rose made a face. 'Who?'

'That's as close as I can manage to pronounce his name,' Eugene admitted. 'He was a Quiisojeanan guard in one of the work camps. Apparently he'd been questioning the conditions of everything for a while, but when he got to Saidong – that's the worst one out there – he was so unprepared for the brutality that his faith in the system was shaken.'

'So he decided to stop it?' Rose asked, feeling a bit of admiration.

'Not on his own. That was all Mellan – see, he was one of the prisoners at the camp. He and his family crash landed on Quiisojeana about four years ago. His wife was killed in the crash, but he and his three kids were processed. They all died because how bad conditions in the work camps are. Anyway, he and Rai met, and decided they had something in common – Rai helped Mel escape the camp, and they set up a little rebel group together. Came up with all this sign stuff, and then managed to find a pirate signal to broadcast to Niho. It's how people like me know their story.'

'Wow,' Rose said. 'They sound like people the Doctor would like.'

'Who?'

'My friend,' Rose answered. 'I've got to find him. And it sounds like Rai and Mellan are the way to do that.'

Eugene laughed. 'You think you're just going to walk up to them and get them to help you find your friend?'

Rose thought about that, and then shrugged. 'Something like that.'

Truth be told, she didn't actually have a plan.

It was the Doctor's area, and while she'd been with him over a month it didn't mean she understood any better how his mind worked.

What she did know, however, without a doubt, was that she needed to get to the leaders of the Resistance in order to find the Doctor so that _he_ could come up with the plan.

Standing in the strange classroom style room, surrounded by people who were completely out of their element and having orders barked at them by well-meaning but unsympathetic Resistance members, she didn't think she was going to find any allies either.

_Right…let's try the direct approach_, she decided and started towards the front of the room where a bald human man was trying to get everyone's attention, holding his hand with his index finger pointed upward.

She felt a hand on her shoulder as she moved, and saw Eugene looking at her sourly. 'You're probably not going to get him to talk to you.'

'Doesn't mean I shouldn't try.'

'If you're not careful, they're gonna throw you out of here.'

'Yeah, well, if that happens at least I'll be free to look for the Doctor – unlike in here,' she retorted and tried not to sound uncertain. They both knew her chances of getting caught if she were out on her own were nigh on inevitable.

She shrugged Eugene off and continued on her way, stepping up to the man giving Sign lessons. 'Sorry, but I've got a question.'

'It can wait – go sit down.' His tone was harsh, and his accent something close to American.

'No, I need to speak to the people in charge. Um, Rai and Mellan?'

He shot her an annoyed look. 'The brass don't deal with new recruits unless there's a problem. And there clearly isn't, right Miss?'

From his tone, it sounded like he was threatening her to start a problem.

'Right,' she agreed. 'But you see –'

'Then I suggest you stop interrupting while I try to teach your ungrateful ass and all the rest of these people the Signs they're going to need to survive.'

'You don't understand, I have this friend – he can help the resistance – he can probably stop all the stuff that's happening here, actually, but he's –'

The man reached out and grabbed her by the arm, roughly bringing her close and shoving his face close to hers.

'I don't care about your friend right now – what I care about is doing my job so I don't get cited. And unless you want to be tossed out for insubordination, you're gonna sit down and shut up like the rest of the fish that came in here today so we can keep this operation moving smoothly. Got it?'

'Got it,' she bit out, trying to ignore the bruising grip on her arm.

'Good.'

He let go of her, the action causing her to stumble back.

She rubbed her arm, glowering at him as she tried to figure out what to try next. The Resistance people were stubborn, but she wasn't about to give up, even if it meant…

She blinked, running over the conversation with the gruff Sign instructor.

_Don't deal with new recruits unless there's a problem, right_? Rose thought. _Alright then. Guess I need to cause a problem. _

'Sorry, Doctor,' she murmured silently. She knew he didn't like needless violence, and if he were there he'd probably twit her about her primate ancestors or something.

She squared her shoulders – caught and ignored the look Eugene was sending her that clearly begged her not to do what she was thinking of doing – and marched back up to the Sign instructor.

'Oi, mate!'

He growled, turning around. 'Lady, I have to tell you one more fu –'

The right cross she landed across his jaw threw him backwards in surprise, and pain flared across Rose's knuckles and up her wrist. She probably hadn't hit him the right way, but right now it didn't matter.

Before he could recover, she threw herself at the Signer.

'You're going to bloody listen to me!' she bit out, landing on his back and wrapping arms and legs around him.

The guy stumbled and let out a string of curses as he tried to shake her off. She held on though.

In the background, she heard the surprised and scandalized shouts of her fellow former prisoners, but she ignored them in favour of yelling at the top of her lungs, hoping someone would hear her.

_And in the category of stupid ideas…_she thought dimly as he tried to peel her off of him.

'Someone here needs to help my find my friend – I'm trying to help you people put down this stupid system – I know someone who can help! He can fix it – he can save everyone here – but you need to get yours heads out of your arses and _help – me – find – him - !' _

Her arms and legs lost their purchase. She suddenly found herself lying flat on her back, a gun shoved in her face and while several other people held her arms in place.

More Resistance members, she realized as the stars retreated from her eyes.

'You again,' the woman from before was back, and she was looking at Rose with something more than dislike.

'She's nuts,' the Signer growled, pulling Rose up to her feet and pushing her back out of the room. From the unpleasant look in his eyes, she could tell he wanted to do more than that. 'Attacked me for no reason.'

'To be fair, she was trying to ask you a question,' Rose heard Eugene pipe up from somewhere, and then add a subdued, 'Sorry'.

'This operation is too important to be jeopardized by elements that can't take directives,' the woman insisted. 'I'm sorry, but you're going to have to take your chances with the Qs.'

'Maybe once they cut out your tongue and have you shovelling salt in the mines for a year or so, she might appreciate the way things are run here a bit more,' the Signer told her nastily.

'Yeah, well, you don't listen to me and you'll be right there next to me,' Rose spat, still struggling. She raised her voice. 'There's a way to bring down this stupid regime. You just need to _listen_ to me and –'

She abruptly found herself roughly turned around.

She blinked, finding herself staring at the barrelled chest of a Quiisojeana that was looking down at her, teeth gritted. He was signing something rapidly to the Resistance members holding her, who looked pale and worried as they signed back.

The bear creature's eyes widened and it looked down on her. Then, it seemed to make a decision, because it nodded and indicated that it should be followed.

'You've done it now,' one of the Resistance members holding onto her said.

'Thought I already had?' Rose asked. 'Isn't this you kicking me out?'

'No, this is us taking you to Rai and Mellan,' the woman answered grimly. 'And you'd better pray to whatever gods you believe in that you've got something important to say, girl. They've been known to shoot people for less than wasting their time.'

'Oh,' Rose exhaled. She swallowed and called up the best approximation of the Doctor's grin that she could. 'Well, take me to your leader, then.'


	12. Chapter Twelve

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> I know, you were probably expecting the Doctor's POV…but I'm trying to write this sequentially and chronologically, and he's got a bit of planning to do with only hand-signs and stuff, so in the meantime, have some more Rose!

* * *

><p><strong>TWELVE<strong>

As she was shoved roughly through the tunnels and hallways of the base, Rose decided that if this was how much trouble it took to track down the Doctor when he went missing, she was going to fit him with a radio collar.

The room she was brought to was no simpler nor grander than the rest of the place, which she figured meant the leaders of the Resistance didn't actually considering themselves better than the other members. That was an encouraging sign, at least.

Less encouraging was the way the Resistance members holding on to her shoved her to her knees when they got there.

'Commanders!' the woman announced self-importantly. 'This is the new recruit that has been causing trouble.'

Two figures leaned over a table. The larger figure – a Quiisojeanan whose fur was covered in scars and who wore his white mane of hair loose around his ears – turned and growled something, causing the second figure to face her as well. A tall man, with cropped red hair and an unpleasant looking scar running from the right corner of his mouth to his jaw.

He signed something to the people holding on to her, and one of them loosened their grip. She yanked herself away from the other, shooting them an unimpressed glare as they signed to the redheaded man.

He made an impatient, annoyed noise and snapped his fingers. Someone passed him something like a headset – it was crudely made and reminded her painfully of some of the cobbled-together tools the Doctor sometimes worked with. There was a beeping noise, like it was loading or something, and then the man motioned for her captors to leave.

'I will handle this,' a croaking, computerized voice declared and she realized it was coming from the man.

'Commander Mellan –'

The Quiisojeanan growled again, and the woman that had objected huffed and saluted. 'Sir!'

The man turned his attention on her now, his gaze cold.

'People are usually so grateful to be out of the Q clutches that they behave themselves,' the computerized voice stated. His lips didn't move, and she remembered belatedly what Eugene had said about how he and his children had been processed. He'd had his tongue cut out. 'Not you though. Who are you?'

'Rose Tyler,' she answered, affecting the Doctor's way of saying his name as thought people _should_ know it.

_Walk around like you own the place_, she coached herself again when Mellan's expression didn't change.

'Alright, Tyler, explain yourself.'

Rose swallowed and called up every bit attitude the Estate had given her.

'And if you don't like what I have to say you shoot me, right?' she bit out.

Mellan rolled his eyes. 'If I routinely shot people for not telling me what I wanted to hear, the Resistance would have been dead before it got started.'

'So that's just a rumour, then? Best tell your yes-men that – from the way they was going on, you're supposed to be eight feet tall and eat disobedient people for breakfast or something.'

The man's expression didn't change at all, but the voice intoned, 'Not hungry right now. Rai might be, so don't waste our time.'

He motioned her to come closer, and she did, eyes flitting over their workspace. Rose expected to see several large paper maps with pins spread out across the table, the way it always happened in the movies. As she drew nearer she saw she was half-right – the maps were there, but digitally. The resolution was crude, however, like it had been drawn with an Etch A Sketch.

'I need to get back to my friend,' Rose stated, not letting herself be intimidated by the two resistance leaders. 'We landed here and he went looking for a way to stop the language barrier. It was mucking with our ship's translation circuits.'

'Why would that matter?'

Rose noticed that every single thing he said, he signed along with it. Judging from the way Rai reacted and occasionally signed back, she supposed he was keeping his partner apprised of the situation and relaying the Quiisojeanan's comments to her in a way he understood.

'Well, he's alien, isn't it?' Rose retorted impatiently, feeling like she'd told this story several times with no one listening. 'We weren't exactly keen on resorting to finger puppets.'

'Your friend is alien,' Mellan repeated, considering her with an unreadable look. 'Common or not?'

'Huh?'

'Is his native-tongue well-known in this quadrant or rare? Something you wouldn't find out here?'

'Probably that last bit, yeah,' Rose admitted, thinking of the TARDIS and everything the Doctor had revealed about his language.

'And when did he arrive here?'

'Uh…' Rose had to think about that, not exactly having the innate sense of time that the Doctor did. It didn't help that not counting being knocked out, she hadn't slept in a while. She made a grand estimate of how long she had been on the planet, and then added another hour. 'Less than a day. Maybe…eighteen hours?'

'Then I wouldn't get your hopes up,' Mellan said flatly, and she wasn't sure if that was him or his computerize voice. ''Anyone who lands here, their language is logged and if there's a previous instance of it, they get sent to a prison like where you ended up. If their language has no known correspondence, though…There is a special prison built for rare aliens. Instead of being ransomed or processed the way most captured off-worlders are, rare specimens are sent there.'

'Don't call him a specimen!' she snapped, trying to hide how her stomach jumped unpleasantly. 'Why would they do that, anyway? Are they going to, like, sell him to a collector or something?'

She knew there were some societies that engaged in the slave trade, even back on Earth in her time. She hoped this wasn't one of those, because if the Doctor was sold off, she would never find him. She already had doubts about whether she was going to find him now that she possibly knew where he was.

'Nothing like that,' Mellan smiled unpleasantly. 'Off-worlders that can't be categorized are executed.'

Her thoughts stuttered to a halt.

'What?' she whispered.

'Executed. They are brought into an arena and the death is witnessed by the people.

'What?' Rose repeated again, disbelieving. An instant later that disbelief turned to disgusted anger. 'You mean they take…innocent people, people who might've just accidentally landed here, and they kill 'em? For what reason? And why the hell does it make a difference if they're rare or not? That makes no sense!'

She couldn't organized her thoughts properly to deal with this information. The idea that the Doctor would be…what if he had already been…?

She felt sick.

Rai signed something with his large paws, and Mellan translated, 'It's considered a mercy, in some corners. The alien doesn't even know they've been killed once the switch is flipped.'

'That doesn't make it any better!' Rose hissed, clenching her fists. 'In fact, it makes it worse! They do this in _public_?!'

They didn't have capital punishment back home, but she knew some countries like the United States did, and those usually weren't broadcast. She had come to associate public executions as characteristic of backwards, brutal societies.

Apparently that was true in the far reaches of the universe as well.

'The Qs believe they are honoring their enemy,' Mellan told her, and although the computerized voice had no inflection, there was a grimness in his gaze. 'In this land, the death of an enemy is witnessed to ensure they pass into the next life and don't return.'

'What, they've got zombies here?'

'If you believe the ancient stories…'

'Well, let's keep that off the list then, I've got no interest in seeing a zombie panda horse right now. We've got to find a way to save the Doctor.'

'There is nothing we can do for your friend.'

'You don't understand–!'

'No, you don't understand!' Mellan's expression told her if he'd been able to speak himself he would be shouting. 'The raid we led to release you resulted in five of our number getting killed. And that was just a regular prison facility. The prison for the rarest aliens is the most highly secured facility on this moon.'

'But –!'

'I cannot justify putting everyone else in danger just to save your friend. Why should he be so important, when countless others have already died because of this regime?'

She choked in a gasp at the look he trained on her now. There was a terrifying gleam in his eyes, sad and furious and dangerous. It was the look of a man who had lost everything, and had been pushed to the absolute brink by something dark beyond words.

It was the look of a man who had lost everything, and she recognized it because she saw it in the Doctor's eyes every day.

She knew from experience there was probably very little she could say in the face of such a look.

The sick feeling was back, and with it the palpable sense of despair.

'Then let me go,' she told him, trying to force volume into her voice. It was hard to do when she felt like she couldn't get enough oxygen into the words. 'I'll find him on my own.'

'Admirable as you determination is, you'll likely fail – and in doing so, the Qs might use you to get to us.'

'Then _help_ me so that can't happen!'

Mellan made an annoyed sound and gave a dismissive gesture. 'There's not arguing with stupidity. Rai, fetch the guard –'

'He's the last of his kind!' she shouted at him. 'There's no one else left to do what he does, you've got to help me save him! If you don't, all of time and space could be at risk, you stubborn son of a –'

Strong hands suddenly had her shoulders in a bruising grip.

'Say that again,' Mellan ordered. There was something in his eyes now…something almost hungry.

'Didn't get a chance to say it the first time, did I?' she managed, gritting her teeth.

'That bit about time and space – what did you mean?'

'I –'

'Is he a time traveller?!'

'Yes, but –'

'And he's the last of his kind?' Mellan demanded, impatient. 'Are you absolutely sure?'

'Why?' Rose asked levelly, not liking that look. 'I thought you said one person didn't matter –'

'He…might,' Mellan managed to say, voice heavy, like he was trying to quash something worryingly close to hope. He signed something quickly to Rai, who appeared shocked, and then signed back.

'What are you talking about?' Rose asked, rubbing her upper arms; there would be finger shaped bruises on them tomorrow.

'Before she died, consort Kagane –'

'Who?'

'The wife of ime Nekane's nephew,' Mellan snapped, impatient. 'Her family has traditionally been the pool from which the court augers are drawn. She is said to have that same Sight, and it's why she managed to gain so much support when she helped to organize the failed coup against Nekane. Before Kagane was executed, she told the ime that if she didn't change her way, she would be responsible for the collapse of the entire society. Nekane didn't believe her – thought it was a dying threat from a condemned prisoner. But right before they flipped the switch, Kagane said one last thing.'

Mellan's voice when quiet now, and from the way he words slowed to the same pace as Rai's signing, Rose knew he was translating word for word now.

'_Your end will issue from the mouth of a wanderer without a home, a stranger who speaks a tongue lost to the universe and to whose will time bends. Your throne will crumble beneath you and Quiisojeana will be no more.'_

'And that's why she's been ordering rare species to be killed,' Rose realized dully.

'Exactly – rare. Or going extinct. I've got one or two contacts in that facility, just in case – they've never been able to do anything, but they've sent me the manifests and descriptions of the species that have been killed. I recognize most of them – I was once part of an intergalactic naval crew, you need to be able to identify potential enemies – and none of them are actually extinct. Just so rare in this quadrant that to the Quiisojeanans, they might as well be.'

Mellan was becoming more excited, his eyes flashing wildly and his fingers stuttered in his excitement to sign his thoughts to Rai. She had been starting to feel less intimidated by Mellan's more down-to-earth and no-nonsense demeanour, but now there was something fanatic there that made her uneasy.

'If you are so sure that your friend is the answer to our problems, and if he is a time traveller, he might be the one spoken of in prophecy,' he finished, stepping towards her. 'So I'll ask you one more time – is your friend the last of his kind?'

Something inside now felt like admitting this would be sullying the fact – that this man clearly just wanted to use the Doctor for something some fortune teller had said once. On the other hand, it might just be her only opportunity to get to the Doctor. He could sort everything out after they rescued him.

If he was still alive.

It was that thought that decided her.

'Yeah,' she confessed finally. 'All his people are gone.'

Mellan smiled coldly. 'Then we need to break him out.'


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>THIRTEEN<strong>

Time was running out.

It had taken twelve hours and another three helpless victims being brought to the arena for the Doctor to not only to come up with a plan of escape, but to get the attention of each other captive he needed to help him and convey the plan to them.

First of all, he had needed to figure out the order in which the other aliens were to be executed. Keeping them straight in his head, he was able to figure out how much time he had to plan while at the same time minimizing the amount of people who were going to die between the Sxaravid's death and his own imminent execution.

Through a combination of mime, hand gestures and the barest brush of telepathic suggestion that had his eyes watering and his nerves frayed in the end, he managed to organize a very rough, very risky escape plan. He had to make sure that everyone was equally committed to the plan, because otherwise everyone was lost, which meant all the others had to agree on who would be freed first and what their job would be once they managed to escape their cage.

He couldn't risk even one person deciding at the last minute to try to make a break for it on their own.

The Doctor's sense of time was ticking steadily closer to when the next victim was to be released from their cage – a Verslooian female with a missing arm – which meant the planning stage was over now whether they were ready or not.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself the briefest, painful peek at the ensuring timelines, just for a sense of anything that might go wrong. Before the corrosive burn of the timelines against his raw senses could really begin, he decisively shut his temporal eye.

Looking out at the caged alien life forms around him once more, he nodded to them.

It was time.

At the complete opposite end of the line of cages from the Verslooian, a three-headed bird creature began to kick up a fuss, fluttering its wings and kicking its scaly, clawed feet at the bars of its cage.

The sound of electricity snapping through the air and pained, indignant squawks broke the relative silence of the prison area. Despite this, the kicking and fluttering disturbance continued, and as predicted, one of the guards headed over to deal with it.

The Doctor slipped the key out of the cuff of his jumper where he had been hiding it and carefully reached through the spaces in the metal of his cage, careful not to touch it with either his fingers or the key.

It was a tricky bit of work maneuvering his hands to the proper angle where he could get the key into the lock, and already he could hear the bird creature giving a pained yelp as the guard sent an extra electric charge through in order to pacify it.

If he couldn't get the lock to catch in the next seconds the entire plan would be –

_Hah!_

He'd done it, heard the tumblers move and everything. Opening the door fractionally, the charge was nullified; he didn't leave yet, though, not wanting the guards to notice

Instead, he put down the key and slid it in a perfect arc across the room to the Verslooian. She caught it between her webbed fingers and spirited it out of sight, nodding at him. He passed the signal on down the line, and a disturbance at the other end from the first began. The guards once again tottered over to investigate, while the Verslooian managed to work the key to free herself. She bent and slid it to the next prisoner.

They would continue in this vein until everyone had been freed in the proper order, but as the disturbances became more expected, the distractions would have to change.

When at least half a dozen of the other aliens were free by his calculation, he decided it was finally time.

Kicking the door to his cage open, he shouted out a string of impressive Gallifreyan insults at the nearest guards (not that they would be able to understand him, but it was a bit cathartic to him at any rate) and made a run for one end of the prison area.

_That's right, you lot, come deal with the trouble-making alien_.

As he led them on a merry chase, hopping around the room and dodging their shock batons, he could sense the palpable energy in the air as the other prisoners began to get amped up. He could hear the clicking of different locks opening, but as planned, no one made a move yet so as to not tip off the guards.

Also as agreed, the fox-savage was left purposefully out of the loop and was snarling angrily at its cage.

Keeping a mental tally of locks broken even as he ducked underneath the raised claws of one guard, he took in the rather archaic computer and security system wired through the walls, deciding that was his priority as soon as the second part of his plan was engaged, right about –

_Now_, his smile was more of a grimace as, as one, every other cage door was thrown open and a stampede of aliens barrelled out towards the guards.

There was a moment of blind panic among the bear-creatures, and the Doctor capitalized on that to make a dive for the keypad and computer system that no doubt led to the security feed. They couldn't afford reinforcements arriving any time soon.

Luckily computer systems – especially crude ones – didn't need a language to be overridden, and with a few adjustments, he had disconnected all the security feeds. Above him, the large screen of the arena blinked out, suggesting it wasn't just this room's video feed he had disconnected, but the entire facility and arena connected to it.

_Good. And now for my next trick…_

He looked back into the containment area, watching as alien stood by alien, working together without language to disable and herd the guards into the cages they had once guarded. Others were going down the line, freeing the prisoners that hadn't been let out in time to join the fray or who didn't have the necessary appendages to do it themselves.

The Doctor moved through the guard station, looking for anything that might help once they escaped. He had been unconscious when they brought him here and wasn't quite sure what the security situation or even what the rest of this prison looked like, and he and his fellow prisoners would need some kind of protection if they were to –

_Well, that's incredibly lucky_, the Doctor blinked upon finding a rather large, industrial looking container. It appeared to be filled with confiscated items, a theory which was confirmed when he saw his coat peeking out from beneath various weapons, armor and other clothing.

After tugging it out, he brought the container out into the open to allow the other aliens to peruse it for anything they might find of use. In the meantime, he examined his pockets. He let out a pleased exclamation at finding both the sonic screwdriver and the psychic paper.

Neither would necessarily help if there were a line of sentries with halberds outside of the prison area, but they might still be helpful.

The Doctor shrugged into his jacket, rolling his shoulders at the familiar weight, and turned to face his fellow prisoners. They had tried to arm themselves as well as possible and we looking expectantly at him.

He ignored the feeling of nausea at the plateau, reminding him too much of soldiers awaiting orders and a time during the war when he had done his fair share of commanding.

_Right. Not the time for reminiscing. Right now, all we need to do is keep the element of surprise going for as long as – _

An alarm suddenly began to shriek, and several of the species with particularly keen hearing winced.

_Bollocks. So much for the element of surprise_.

There hadn't been any plan for what to do if they were caught or if the alarm went off. The sound seemed to shatter whatever fragile bit of cooperation that he had managed to pull together. All of a sudden, everyone was frantic to escape.

Despite trying to regain their attention, and to get back the sense of order and synchronicity that he had managed before, the other aliens were quickly whipping themselves into a panc fueled frenzy to get to freedom.

After several minutes fruitlessly shouting at them to calm down, the Doctor realized he was wasting the little time he had to get out. Right now, he had to escape any way he could, even if it meant leaving the other aliens to make enough of a disturbance to cover his exit.

The fast he got out, the faster he could take out the language barrier. That done, he would have a better chance of stopping not only the frenzied, disorganized aliens but the government that had put them all there.

_Priorities_, he reminded himself.

There were two exits from the containment area – one, which led to the execution arena, and a second which he had watched the guards leave through when their shifts were over. It was through this one that the Doctor and his fellow aliens streamed through.

Truthfully, he was expecting more guards to be waiting beyond the containment area, or even in the countless underground hallways branching off from the main one. Strangely, though, they only ran into a few sentries – and those seemed rather preoccupied with something else that was going on.

Another palpable sense of activity filled the air, ratcheting higher and higher as the Doctor and the other aliens burst into the main entrance chamber of the prison.

And into a warzone.

All around them, the bear-creature guards were battling it out with a rag-tag collection of aliens and their own kind, their halberds and spears clashing with crude rifles and swords. He saw quite a few humans in the fray, as well as a few of the Bemmius species, and even a Crespalian in there.

As his former prison-mates fled into the room, some trying to avoid the bloodshed while others immediately made a beeline for their former captors, the Doctor realized what was happening.

It seemed his little revolt wasn't an isolated incident.

Someone – or many someones – was launching a full-scale attack on the prison. And if the bear-creature guards were so intent on fighting it off than to care that a bunch of their prisoners had managed to escape, it meant that they had an enemy.

Possibly, a fraction of society who weren't pleased with the way things were running and, are he hope, a resistance movement.

_Finally, something going right_, he decided. He had luck when it came to resistance movements. If there was a foundation of revolt, he'd be able to help them and sort this xenophobic society out after all.

Someone was sneaking along the edges of the battle, dodging battling aliens and errant swipes of the weapons. Someone blond and pink and human and of course – _of bloody course_ it was her!

He was more surprised at his being surprised, because here they were. In the middle of a dangerous, all-out prison break surrounded by an oppressive and dangerous law force and an equally dodgy looking group of rebels, and he would bet there was nowhere on this moon right now as dangerous as this one place, and she was shoving her way through the throng of people with that look of determination he had become so familiar with.

_Rose Tyler, stay where she's told? The universe would end first_, he thought with pride and anger and frustration and amusement at the sight of her. He couldn't believe how much he had missed her in the near twenty-four hours since he had seen her last, and that almost made up for how absolutely furious he was at her for not listening to his directive to stay in the TARDIS.

He was already moving forward, calling out her name over the frenzied crowd and fighting, forgetting for a moment that she couldn't understand him any better now than she could before he left.

Yet her head snapped up and she was facing him, her face morphing instantly from the hard, desperate look to one of delight and relief.

The warm feeling increased as he realized that even though she couldn't understand him, she had reacted to his voice and his language. Somehow, above the din, she had heard him and knew he was talking to her.

'_Epdups_!' she exclaimed loudly, and they were already moving toward one another, the world falling away as he desperately moved toward her.

It was probably the reason neither of them noticed the bear-guard rise up behind her until it was too late.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>FOURTEEN<strong>

The sight of the Doctor, navigating his way through the battling Resistance and Quiisojeana guards to get to Rose had filled her with a sudden joy and appreciation, making any earlier doubts about working with the rebels all-but disappeared.

His answering expression of relief and the sound of his beautiful language around the syllables that she knew referred to her added a kind of giddiness and something unnameable to the entire experience.

Which was why it felt as if the air was sucked directly out of her lungs when his expression suddenly faded into horror and he bit out a warning so jarring in its intensity that she felt physically moved. Her head whipped around to look over her shoulder, and shock and dismay washed over her at the sight of a Quiisojeanan looming behind her, its bladed weapon already whistling down toward the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

She clenched her eyes shut, waiting for the sudden burst of pain and nothingness that would signify death – only for it to never come.

The Doctor had moved before she was even really aware of it. One minute he had been several yards away, and suddenly he was standing in front of her, backing her out of the guard's way and hands firmly grasping the wooden part of the weapon. The Quiisojeanan looked as surprised as she felt, and Rose attributed this to the reason why the Doctor was so easily able to tug the weapon from the bear creature's claws.

He spun it around, whipping the blunt end of the handle across the side of the alien's head, and the Quiisojeanan went down heavily.

Tossing the weapon to the ground, the Doctor turned to Rose, and she shivered at the remnants of the look on his face. Coupled with the unnatural and unexpected speed, the fading expression was a stark reminder that the man she travelled with was far from human.

The instinctual thing would be to recoil, to distance herself – and yet when her eyes fell on the bleeding gash on his chest, that fleeting instinct disappeared.

'Doctor!' she cried out, rushing forward to check the wound. It looked like the bladed weapon had just caught him when he leapt in front of her, arrested in the nick of time by his own strong grip. It wasn't deep, just a graze, but she didn't like the sight of the glistening, dark orange blood visible through the tear in his jumper.

He was tugging her now, away from the most immediate danger of the skirmish, which she could see that the Resistance was winning. Mellan had said it would be neigh on impossible, that the guard force was too strong and well-trained in this particular facility to make it in very quickly.

That saving the Doctor might be futile, because he might have already been executed.

But they had planned, and gathered a force of rebels willing to listen to the idea that there was someone in the worst prison facility on Quiisojeana who could change things. People willing to die for that possibility.

In the beginning, it had seemed that that was exactly what would happen.

But then, something had apparently been dividing the attention of the Quiisojeanan force, and she had known intuitively that it was the Doctor. And so she'd ignored every directive to stay behind, because she had _needed_ to find him.

And near-death experience aside, it was completely worth it.

He was hugging her tightly and running his hands over her shoulders – no doubt to check for harm – and saying her name and something else in his perfect language. She couldn't be sure, but the tone was a bit scolding and she would bet he was telling her off about leaving the TARDIS.

'Don't give me that,' she told him. 'I thought you were in trouble – and I was right! Could make a career out of saving your arse, I bet.'

It bothered her that they still couldn't speak to one another, but now that they were together she knew they would soon fix that.

The melee was calming down, more Quiisojeanan's kneeling in defeat on the floor, others lying slumped where killing blows had fell them. The bodies of a number of Resistance fighters also littered the ground, while the remaining units clashed.

She felt roughened hands move across her face, his thumb swiping gently across the cut over her left eye. It had stopped bleeding hours ago, thankfully, but judging by the dark expression in his eyes as he looked at it, he wasn't happy to see it there.

He was reaching into his pocket, probably for the sonic, when a voice interrupted.

'Tyler!'

Although the computerized speech didn't have any emotion, from the volume alone and the look on his face, Rose knew Mellan was absolutely livid. His lips were twisted in a snarl. 'You were supposed to stay behind until the facility was cleared! I gave specific orders –'

She suddenly found herself being drawn backwards gently but firmly, and the Doctor was standing in front of her, telling Mellan something in the same deliberately calm tone that promised destruction for any other alien threat. Evidently, he thought she was in danger from the Resistance Leader.

He didn't seem the only one invested in the situation, either.

There was a sudden barrelling movement and Rai was no longer across the room, securing the large chamber from the last of the guards. Instead, he had shoved his way in front of Mellan, teeth bared and snarling something that didn't sound at all complimentary at the Doctor.

The Doctor was trying to back Rose away from the angry Quiisojeanan, but she moved away. 'Doctor, no, you don't understand –'

She peeked impatiently out from behind his shoulder to where Mellan, who had looked a little stunned at the Doctor's speech before, was trying to avoid the protective wall that was his partner. He forcibly met Rose's gaze, 'Tyler, call off your boyfriend before he takes a swing at me. Rai's got a temper on the best of days, and he doesn't shy from ripping off limbs.'

Rose rolled her eyes and tugged at the Doctor's hand, trying to get him to relax. 'Doctor, he's a friend – sort of. They're the good guys, yeah?'

_More or less_, she added, still not entirely sold on how the Resistance was being run.

The Doctor eyed both Rai and Mellan distrustfully for another half second, and then relaxed a bit. Mellan laid a calming hand on Rai, causing the bearish alien to do the same.

'Thank you,' the human said, in a tone that suggested it cost him to say it. 'Would be a shame to maim the man we came for in the first place – assuming that's him?'

'Definitely him,' Rose agreed, relieved.

'Good. We've spent more time here than we should have, and the guards are no doubt recouping,' Mellan said. He motioned to Rai. 'We need an exit strategy…'

He started on what Rose knew from the past few hours was meant to be a lengthy series of signed commands – but was interrupted when the Doctor made a sudden exclamation.

He shoved forward, and to Rose's surprise, began to sign at Mellan. The Resistance leader looked as shocked as she felt, because when he started signing back, his movements were a bit clumsy.

'You _understand_?' Rose cried, almost giddy at the idea of tentative way to bridge their communication. She turned to Mellan. 'He can understand you? How?'

Another flurry of hand gestures, and Mellan frowned. 'Something to do with intergalactic signing, which became diplomatic standard…don't know what he's talking about, there's no intergalactic signing standard. Rai and I just came up with this out of a bunch of signals that would be easy for both our species to replicate…we've been working on a tonal equivalent for species unable to sign.'

'What, like Morse code?' Rose asked.

Mellan shot her a funny look. 'What code?'

'Never mind.'

The signing continued, and Mellan let out an amused snort.

'What?'

'He's apologizing.'

'_What_?' Rose demanded. 'He never apologizes – what'd he do?'

'Oh, he's not apologising for him. He's apologizing for you. Apparently you've got a tendency to wander off and ignore orders, so I shouldn't take it personally.'

'Oi!' Rose glared at the Doctor, earning a teasing smile in return. Even Rai appeared to be chuckling now, and Rose felt like she was the only one not included in the secret club.

_Should have learned some of those damn signs myself after all, _she thought sourly.

There was more signing, and she let out an annoyed huff, though whether it was her being left out of things or the fact that someone else was able to talk to the Doctor when she couldn't, she didn't know.

Hoping to distract herself, she glanced around.

The large chamber they were in was finally quiet again, rebel soldiers acting as sentries along the exits while others moved the bodies of the dead to one side. None of the Quiisojeana remained alive – apparently, fighting to the death was part of their training – but there were quite a few injured rebels.

_Should maybe go help_, she thought, eyeing the wounded and turned to let the men beside her know that's what she planned.

She found the Doctor and Mellan were glaring at each other once more.

'What's going on _now_?'

'He says that there are still aliens in the main complex that he wants to free – won't leave here until that's done, apparently,' Mellan frowned. 'Doesn't seem to care we'd have to lead another assault against the reserve forces no doubt gathering back there. You people don't understand the concept of collateral damage, do you?'

'Course not!' Rose agreed, appalled at the concept. 'We help people – all people, not just the ones you think are important.'

Mellan shot her another annoyed look, and then went back to silent communication. This time, she knew it was to purposefully keep her out of things. The Doctor's eyes flicked to hers every now and again, and although he didn't say anything else in his native tongue now that he didn't have to rely on it, she could tell he was talking about her.

He had the same shifty, guilty face he'd worn at 10 Downing Street.

Abruptly, all three of them seemed to come to an agreement, because the Doctor and Mellan nodded and Rai let out a snarl of accord.

Rose raised an eyebrow, suspicious. 'What?'

Mellan motioned to the entrance where the rebels had come through. 'Time to get you out of the line of fire – you've found your friend, now it's time for you to go back and wait in the convoy.'

'Yeah, that's gonna happen,' Rose retorted sarcastically. 'I'll go back when Rai goes back, 'kay?'

'Rai is instrumental to this operation. You're a civilian, and it was the Doctor's stipulation you be out of harm's way.'

'What? No! I'm staying with the Doctor!' Before the Resistance leader could object, she marched over to the Doctor and jabbed a finger of him – careful not to jar the already scabbing wound. 'Don't you dare send me off! If you're helping to bring these bastards down, I'm helping and that's it!'

The Doctor was shaking his head, preparing his hands to sign something to Mellan, but Rose cut him off – she grabbed his hands to stop him from signing anything.

'I'm staying,' she told him. 'You can't expect me to go sit somewhere, completely safe, while this place keeps running the way it's been running!'

She glanced desperately behind her, seeing Rai with his arms folded and Mellan with his fists clenched by his sides. He was deliberately not translating for her and she knew why. He was as intent on her not being along as the Doctor was, though she suspected that was because he found her irritating.

Anger and frustration wormed their way up their throat, and she bit out, 'D'you know they were going to cut out some little kid's tongue? How can you expect me to just sit by while the people doing that are free? While you're in there, helping to stop them!?'

The Doctor was watching her with a neutral look, and she once against cursed the fact he couldn't understand.

Resigned, she tried one last gambit.

She folded her right hand around his and squeezed tightly, putting as much pleading in her tone and expression as she could muster. 'Better with two, remember?'

For a breath, she thought he wouldn't understand. Or worse, he would understand and ignore her concerns in the face of keeping her safe.

Then he slowly smiled and squeezed her hand back.

He murmured something back in his language, and she knew he'd gotten the message.

He wouldn't make her leave.

Whatever was going to happen and however they were going to deal with this corrupt government – whether they could understand each other or not – they would do it together.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>FIFTEEN<strong>

Things were beginning to look up.

Well, sort of.

He was still standing in the middle of a prison facility's entrance chamber which minutes ago had been the site of a furious and violent altercation. The smell of blood and the cries of the wounded turned his stomach and threatened his mind with flashes of all-too-recent battles that he had endured.

And he was still unable to speak anything other than Gallifreyan, which felt like tearing open an old wound every time his tongue formed the syllables.

But now he could sign, too, which helped.

More important than any of that, however, was the fact he had been reunited with Rose.

And although he wasn't terribly happy with her for wandering into the absolute nightmare that was the political and military situation of this moon, and though she was obviously refusing to leave him behind despite Mellan's directives, her hand was in his and inexplicably the world seemed just a little less gray.

He tried not to dwell on the fact he'd almost witnessed her death right in front of him, or of how close he had come to not just knocking out that Quiisojeanan guard but breaking his neck as well.

Quiisojeana.

This hellhole finally had a name, as well as the tiniest scrap of useful knowledge filed deep within his frankly magnificent brain. It had taken a short and stumbling Sign conversation – it had been so long since he had learned it that it took a few minutes before he was able to converse fully – but he'd finally been able to get some information about what was going on here.

The fact that sign language was the universally understood _lingua franca _here suggested that the language force-field only affected the speech centers of the brain, not the linguistic ones as he had originally thought.

It also seemed like whatever he had been sensing when he first stepped foot on the moon – the myriad potential futures and expectation that _something_ was meant to happen – was directly related to what was going on now.

Because he was fairly sure now that he had landed them in the middle of the Song Rebellion in the 35th century, an event which would completely change the course of inter-planetary relations in this particular star system…and would even effect galactic standards of prisoner treatment in this quadrant. It was the event which would ensure that Intergalactic Signing Basic was enforced, which is why Mellan had probably looked so confused when he mentioned it – that hadn't happened yet.

It also had one of the highest body counts on either side since the Unification War of the 26th Century.

He dearly hoped he had landed on the tail-end of that, if it meant getting Rose out of here in one piece.

Speaking of getting Rose out in one piece…

He could tell his acceptance of what had appeared to be an impassioned entreaty on her part was not going over well with Mellan. He was grumbling something at her, while she shook her head imperiously, and then the redheaded mute was rounding on the Doctor.

'You're shitting me,' Mellan signed, and coupled with his expression and the way his fingers flew, the Doctor could tell he was more than annoyed – he looked apoplectic. 'After all that, you're going to let her tag along?'

'At least this way I can keep an eye on her,' the Doctor replied, trying to convince both Mellan and himself this was best. It did seem like a bit of a step backwards to separate from her so soon after finally finding her again.

'Look, mate, I don't care if you are the son of a bitch from the prophecy or not – bringing a civilian into this kind of thing, it's going to backfire,' the resistance leader went on.

The Doctor felt his mouth set in a grim line. 'Don't set much in story by prophecies, myself. Don't turn me into some kind of hero. I'm anything but.'

'Don't go telling me that,' Mellan cautioned. 'Because we only bothered breaking into this place to get you out. And seeing as how it would've been a lot harder if you hadn't managed it halfway from the inside – which, incidentally, no one else has managed before, _ever_ – obviously your girlfriend's belief in you isn't misplaced. So I'm willing to go on a little faith for now.'

'She's not…' the Doctor began, and then changed tracks. 'Look, prophecies are just clever bits of balancing probabilities in your head. And even when there is something to them – they always conveniently leave out the important bits. Like how many people are going to get hurt in order for it to come to pass.'

'If this prophecy comes true, I'm willing to accept that price.'

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at him. 'Funny – you don't look the superstitious type. Wouldn't've pegged you for a man basing his entire rebel movement on some bit of doom-saying.'

'Every prophecy made by the line of augers has come to pass,' Rai indicated. 'This, too, will come to pass. Is coming to pass even now. Our society gasps for breath while the ime revels in traditions that threaten to bury us. There is no chance to grow, no chance for hope. Like the family she was born from, we face becoming culturally inbred and then extinct if change does not come soon.'

The Doctor considered the bear-like alien, who was rather well-spoken for one who looked so brutish.

'Speaking of change,' Mellan interjected. 'We're not going to change anything just standing here chatting. Or running back into the prisons to free a bunch of foreigners. In fact, doing that's pretty much walking into a death trap.'

'Tough – cos that was the game plan once I got out of this place,' the Doctor retorted. 'They're innocent people, and the longer they're down there, the more of them are going to be killed.'

He very much doubted that his prison area had been the only one in the facility – the number of executions from his block had been incongruent with the amount shown on the television screens. With both the rebel forces and Rose in the same place, now he didn't have to waste time bringing them all together so they could go back and save the rest of the aliens.

'Alright, say we entertain you're idealistic little plan – then what? Then we've got a shit load of aliens who can't communicate getting in our way. Tactically, it's stupid.'

'Maybe. But once I power down the language barrier and replace the program with a universal translator, then all those aliens will be able to communicate – and even better, they'll be able to take orders. You save 'em, they're more likely to want to take orders from you,' the Doctor pointed out. 'Would make a powerful force to overthrow the government, don't you think?'

Mellan's considered this, and then grudgingly admitted, 'Fair point there.'

'If that is to be our goal, then it means we will be confronting the _ime_ directly,' Rai pointed out. 'She does not trust any other with the barrier, fearing they might be swayed to rebel sentiment.'

'Which means we're in for a hard time of it either way,' Mellan continued. 'Even before we get to her and deal with her guards, her palace is a labyrinth. Getting in is the easy part.'

'Why's that?' the Doctor asked.

'The arena where the alien executions are held connects to the basements of her palace,' Mellan explained. 'According to our intel, there's a secret passage that leads her down so that she can make her daily appearance at the executions, but she's the only one that knows its location.'

'Of course she is,' the Doctor grunted, liking this _ime_ less and less with everything he heard about her. It was his experience that the most paranoid rulers tended to be the most dangerous.

He thought for a minute, several plans and scenarios passing through his mind, before he settled on one he liked. There was only one possible hitch…

'Need you to tell Rose something,' he directed at Mellan.

The human man bristled. 'Right, because that worked out so well the last time.'

'It's different this time. I'm not asking you to send her away.'

'Which is bloody stupid, if you ask me –'

'Rose wants to be useful,' the Doctor snapped at the resistance leader. 'You're right, she isn't a soldier, but she's as brave as any of your men and smart to boot. And unless she feels like she's helping, she's going to find a way to get in the thick of things, which neither of us want.'

Mellan's mouth thinned, and he nodded.

'Tell her this _exactly_,' the Doctor told him, reaching toward Rose and nudging her chin with his thumb to catch her attention. She looked up at him, head cocked to one side and the beginnings of a frown wrinkling her forehead. 'We need you to stay with the rear guard.'

'Xibu? Op!' she protested, the wrinkle getting worse.

He pressed a finger to her lips.

'No, none of that – it's not because it's the safest place and I'm trying to get rid of you, but because that's where the wounded are going to be sent. And they're gonna need as much help as possible. I've got to show this lot how to get through the facility, so I won't be able to do it.'

As the message was relayed to her, Rose's expression changed from indignant to understanding. As he finished talking and Mellan stopped signing, she nodded.

'Plbz. J'mm en nz cftu,' she sighed, her tone both doubtful and resolved.

The Doctor let out a breath in relief. One hurdle dealt with…

'I'll also have one of your men watching her as we move forward,' he told the leaders. 'Just in case.'

'That's over the line!' Mellan argued. 'I'm not assigning one of my people, who've been training to take out Qs, babysitting some bloody teenager! One who shouldn't even be involved in any of this!'

'It's not babysitting – consider it insurance to make sure no one attacks your wounded as they're being tended to. I know you've made your peace with the notion of collateral damage, but I doubt you want to leave your wounded unprotected.'

'Which is why we have a rear-guard – I'm not assigning someone specifically to look out for your bit of skirt!'

'Then you'll be leading yourself through the facility, cos I'd much rather be back helping the injured than helping you gun down your enemies,' the Doctor answered calmly, a hint of steel in his tone. 'Trust me, mate, your revolution comes secondary to her wellbeing.'

_History be damned_, he added silently, both in defiance to Mellan and to the twisting flux of the timelines.

The resistance leader looked mutinous, like he wanted to take a swing at the Doctor, but then Rai was moving forward.

'I understand your wishes,' he told him calmly, although with a frown that suggested he was not pleased about it. He addressed Mellan. 'We cannot expect him to leave his mate unprotected simply to further our cause.'

It was the third time they had implied that he and Rose were intimately involved since meeting him. Although it was on the tip of his tongue to protest and explain the exact parameters of his relationship with her, that would waste time and hinder any of the concessions he'd managed to make.

Let them go on thinking what they would, he and Rose knew the truth of it.

'I will stay behind,' Rai continued.

Mellan's angry expression faded to shock. 'What? No!'

'He is doing what is best for his mate, I am doing what is best for mine,' the Quiisojeanan said calmly. Mellan flushed. 'What is best for you is to find the _ime_ and take vengeance for what happened to your family, and the Doctor can help. If he will only help if the girl is protected, the solution is clear.'

Mellan's mouth moved soundlessly for a minute, and then he whirled around and relayed everything to Rose.

He must have added a few of his own colorful embellishments, because she turned an angry red and shoved a finger in his face.

'J epo'u dbsf jg zpv'sf tpnf cjh sfcfm mfbefs, zpv'sf btljoh gps b tmbq!'

'I wouldn't annoy her – her mother slaps, you know, and she's probably inherited it,' the Doctor pointed out with grim humour.

Rose turned away from Mellan with a dismissive toss of her hair, and went to take the Doctor's hands in hers. She didn't speak, simply nodded at him and offered him a smile, and then shuffled over to stand beside Rai.

'Right then,' he rubbed his hands together. 'Suppose we've got work to do.'


	16. Chapter Sixteen

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

* * *

><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>In which the adventure is very much not of the sunshine and daisies type. Somewhat gory descriptions here, but I tried to keep it as vague as possible cos I don't like gore either :P

* * *

><p><strong>SIXTEEN<strong>

There was a flurry of movement then, and Mellan was shouting orders to the Resistance fighters that still lined the exits, both where the Resistance had broken in and where the enemy had fled through. Rose supposed they were guarding them against the possibility of any of the Quiisojeanans breaking back through them and ousting them from the facility.

She found herself being led into the center of the large room, where the dead had been gathered and where the wounded were being treated and helping to treat one another. There were one or two actual field medics there, a human and a spindly looking woman with eyes as large as billiard balls. Rose idled nearby, not entirely sure what she was meant to be doing. She had rudimentary first aid skills at best, and even though she had been brushing up on those since she started travelling with the Doctor, they were primarily to help human beings. At least half of the wounded were alien species.

_What exactly does he expect me to do_? Rose wondered, feeling a little uneasy for the first time since agreeing to the Doctor's idea. She glanced over the Rai, who looked grim yet resigned to the fact he was staying behind to "babysit" her, as Mellan had put it. She wished she had at least a few words of sign so that she could perhaps convince him to go with the Doctor and Mellan, even if she doubted he would listen to her.

Up ahead, Mellan was ordering everyone to take up their crude looking guns and blasters. He offered one to the Doctor, who shook his head and gestured to his sonic. Rose smiled a bit at that; she could just picture what he would be saying if he were talking.

'_Never much liked guns – what's the point, when I've got this? Multipurpose tool – and what's a gun gonna do, anyway, besides kill people? This can open doors, unlock handcuffs, destroy security cameras – even curl hair at fifty paces, though why you'd want it to do that's beyond me…Silly humans and their obsessions with fashions…'_

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She missed speaking to him, and listening to his longwinded lectures on everything from alien technology to his very odd fascination with watching _Antiques Roadshow_ like it was a football match.

There was another rapid-fire exchange of sign between the Doctor and Mellan, which looked like they were arguing again, before they seemed to resolve something. Both nodded, and Mellan gave a signal, and then they were marching off through the passage that led into the rest of the facility.

The Doctor was gone once more.

'Were you sent back here to help?' someone to her left asked, and she looked up in surprise to see the human medic had come over to her. He looked harried and tense.

'Um, yeah,' she said. 'But I don't really know what I should be doing.'

'Stick with me, I'll give you direction,' he told her curtly, and jerked his head over to where at least three Resistance members were reclining. 'Let's go.'

'Yeah…' she said, squaring her shoulders and following.

'The name's Carter, by the way.'

'Rose.'

'Charmed – here, put pressure on this wound,' he ordered as they knelt by a green fish-like alien with a bloody hole the size of a one-pound piece through its shoulder.

Rose swallowed and did as she was told.

'Dunno what that guy in the leather thinks he's doing,' Carter went on conversationally as he brought out a needle and some kind of twine which she supposed was for stitching. 'What's that little stick supposed to do?'

She shrugged. 'I've got no idea how it actually works. It might as well be a magic wand for all I understand – but in the end, that's what's going to get him to the _ime_ and the language field. You just watch.'

'Awful lot of faith you have in him,' the man said.

'It's cos I've seen him do the impossible,' she told him loyally. 'You'll see. He'll fix all this.'

'Hope you're right. Here, I need you to hold the skin together while I stitch her up.'

Rose felt the colour drain from her face.

'Er…don't you have some kind of, advanced glue or sonic device that can fix all this?' Rose asked. 'I mean, we're ages after needle and thread, aren't we?'

Carter shot her a confused and somewhat pitying look. 'You're really not from around here, are you? Even the Qs don't have fancy medical equipment, because most of it's foreign and off-world made. The _ime_ and her kind don't trust it, so they don't bring it in. So you can imagine how hard it is for us to get our hands on it.' He nodded at the alien beneath their hands. 'Now shut up and hold her down.'

It was hard to focus on what she was supposed to be doing, both because she felt rather clueless, and because her heart was in her throat at the idea of the Doctor possibly getting killed in his daring rescue attempt. Hadn't she already almost lost him since landing on this damn moon? He'd nearly been executed, and it was only by a bit of luck that whatever he had done to get himself out had worked. It was only luck that she'd managed to convince the Resistance to even try to get him out –

_No, stop it! It's over and done with, it happened, it's not gonna help right now! _Rose told herself furiously, swallowing down the temptation to throw up as her fingers trembled around the alien woman's open wound. The tips were slippery and sticky with blood, and the woman was groaning and yelling in pain because they had no anesthetic.

'Isn't there something to give her?' Rose gasped, her own hysteria and panic beginning to overwhelm her.

'It's just stab wound – and we're lucky it didn't hit anything vital,' Carter told her. 'She'll be fine once we finish. The quicker we do, the better.'

'But –'

'Anesthetic's kept for big injuries. Like amputations. Trust me, those ones need it more than this.'

Instead of comforting her, that made Rose's fears worse. Her hands were actively shaking now and she felt the urge to cry.

_That_ she fought off with determination. She was not going to have the Doctor come back and hear how she'd been reduced to a blubbering, quivering mass over the important job he'd trusted her to do.

The idea of the Doctor finding her wanting overrode her panic, and she forced herself to breathe.

_I can do this_. _Faced down gas zombies and survived having my leg melted by a volcano, this is nothing_, she told herself firmly.

Everything passed in a blur after that. Her mind felt like it was being assaulted by a million different thoughts at once, from her unease at the life-saving procedures she was being coached in, and worry over what was happening with the Doctor.

Thankfully – or not, depending on how you looked at it – she was soon too busy to even think of that. Resistance fighters were dragging their fallen comrades back to the entrance hall to be looked out for, and hurrying back out to fight. A good half of them were usually dead, but the rest needed immediate attention. Rai waited by the entrance and would carry these back to the medics in his large hands and set them down with a care she would not have guessed from his brutish looks.

Slowly her work became a little – well, not easier, but at least familiar – as she became more practiced in putting pressure on wounds, tying tourniquets and holding torn skin closed. Some of the aliens' blood caused her skin to break out into a painful rash, like it had been sprayed with acid, but there was no time to do more than apply a topical to it and have Lagita, the other medic, bandage her up. They didn't even have gloves, it seemed.

_Because obviously there's something _really_ distrustful and foreign about something that can protect your hands_, Rose thought, her anger at the faceless _ime_ getting stronger every moment longer that she spent on Quiisojeana.

Some of the wounded hurried from the room once their immediate needs were met, intent on returning to the fighting going beyond the entrance, but others were too wounded. Humans and aliens who had lost eyes or sustained such bad concussions that sending them back into battle would be death. They still wanted to help the cause, however, and soon Rose was showing them the rudimentary skills that she had picked up, helping them to help their fellow resistance fighters.

She still wasn't near ready to do any suturing on her own, and she couldn't help a few stray tears that trickled down her cheeks when one of the Resistance fighters who had suffered the swipe of a blade to his leg had to have the entire thing amputated. Even with the precious anesthetic the medics gave him, his cries ratcheted higher and higher.

Rose froze, her breathing becoming labored, unable to think past the anguished cries. Carter was yelling at her, wanting her to help, but she couldn't move past the smell of blood and overwhelming pain that seemed to be closing in on her.

To her surprise, she found herself suddenly faced with Rai, who knelt in front of her and then moved slowly, giving her time to pull away. Then he was pressing the palms of his clawed hands carefully against his ears, effectively cutting off the sound. He was saying something, something she wouldn't have been able to understand even if his hands weren't blocking the sound, but whatever it was seemed soothing.

Rose let out a shuddering breath, and croaked out, 'Thanks.'

Maybe one day she would be able to stomach a man's pain-filled screams long enough to do something to help him, but right now it was threatening to force her into her own sobbing fit. She couldn't afford that if she was going to be helpful.

Once the man finally went silent – he'd passed out, the poor sod – Rai let go of Rose's head and lumbered off again. She was left to help out again, and with a quick apology to Carter and Latiga – the latter of which seemed sympathetic, at least, although Rose couldn't understand the chirping language she spoke.

There were no more gruesome injuries after that, at least, and Rose's work became routine once more.

Clean, swab, bandage, press, hold –

Over and over, until the need for it started to ebb away.

Fewer and fewer wounded were coming back, and the frenzied sense of trauma started to ebb as well.

'We're probably coming to the end of it,' Carter told her as they finished setting a dislocated tail; Rose held the unconscious alien in place while Carter worked. 'Of this battle, anyhow. There's always more.'

Rose's mouth was too dry to even reply that the Doctor wouldn't let it come to that.

Instead, she began to make rounds among the wounded Resistance members who were lucid but unable to help, trying to distract them from their pain for at least a little while. She told them stories about her adventures with the Doctor, even if most of them couldn't understand, and tried to get some of them to teach her a few of the Sign symbols if they had the strength to raise their limbs.

And then a shout echoed through the makeshift medical ward, one that wasn't filled with pain or fear.

'It's over!'

Rose's head whipped up and she stared as a human with a bandage over one side of his face and a still smoking blaster burst through the door that led into the facility. His one visible eye was filled with excitement.

'The lower levels of the facility are completely under our control!' he cried, signing as he spoke. 'All the Qs have retreated the upper levels and the palace! The captain of the Q guards called for a temporary ceasefire to deal with their dead and wounded, but we've gained good ground today!'

Rose was on her feet and marching over to him. 'And the Doctor? Is he alright?'

The man gave her a somewhat pitying look. 'He's alive, if that's what you mean, but –'

Rose didn't wait to hear the end of that sentence.

She was already running full-speed toward the entranceway and into the facility, ducking Rai as he tried to make a grab for her.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

_**Crossed Wires  
><strong>__**by ErtheChilde**_

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><p>'<em>You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'<em>

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> It's a lonely update, but I figured I made you guys wait long enough for it. I will try to keep the time between chapter short this time, as I'm already working on the next chapter. Also, this chapter is going to delve into a bit of darkness, so be prepared for that.

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><p><strong>SEVENTEEN<strong>

The fighting had started almost from the minute they left the entrance chamber behind, and from then it didn't stop.

While Mellan and his followers covered him, engaging directly with the enemy Quiisojeanans, the Doctor used the sonic to alternatively scan for the language field technology and disable the crude security system.

The entire place was a maze of underground tunnels, more like a labyrinth than any prison the Doctor had ever been kept in. It reminded him of the tunnel system beneath the Roman Colosseum, or the trap-laden tombs beneath the Egyptian desert.

There were traps here, too, but he disarmed them with ease before they could do much damage.

During their short conversation before leaving Rose behind in the makeshift medical ward, Mellan had explained to the Doctor that Song Prison hadn't started off as a jail. From what Rai and other Quiisojeana rebels had explained during intel-gathering, the prison had once been a tomb for the dynasty preceding the ruling _ime_'s. There were so many corners and chambers and secret places within the cavernous tunnels, it made it the ideal place to secret away enemies of the state. The _ime_'s family had built their palace over it to do just that, outwardly claiming that they were drawing power from the former dynasty.

'It's why she put her prison there, later,' Mellan had told the Doctor grimly. 'Her way of showing that she had power over anyone foreign.'

Now that he had the time to look around, he realized he had been extremely lucky to get to the facility exit as quickly as he had; by some twist of fate, the wing where he and his fellow inmates had been held was closest to the way out.

The Resistance had discovered the one outer entrance almost two years before, but they had held off from attacking because of the sheer number of Quiisojeanan forces that could be hidden within the catacombs.

The Doctor was witnessing first hand right now how true that concern was. Their numbers were definitely superior to the number of Resistance fighters, and he could tell it was something they were used to using to their advantage. It was an old tactic – attrition in its most patient form and heartless form – and one that had been largely effective in keeping the Resistance from making much headway.

As the Resistance broke through into one of the larger underground chambers, they were suddenly ambushed on two sides as Quiisojeanans poured out of two adjacent corridors. Spears and shock sticks clashed with crude machetes and gunfire from the ranged fighters, and the Doctor gritted his teeth to find himself in the middle of a battlefield once more as the the Quiisojeanan forces started to bottleneck the oncoming Resistance in one chamber.

'See why it's taken so long to get rid of them?' Mellan signed, as he and the Doctor ducked behind a wall to stay out of the line of fire. It was just as well – even if he could have spoken, the Doctor wouldn't have been able to hear him over the sounds of fighting and pained yells choking into dying gasps. 'Kill one, ten more take its place. Sure you don't want a gun?'

'Your guns haven't won you this revolution in five years,' the Doctor replied. 'Might want to rethink your strategy.'

'Short of finding a way to coordinate another two-front assault, I think it's you who should rethink your strategy – and considering that only worked because they were caught off guard, I wouldn't count on it working again!'

The Doctor grinned at that, and it felt more like a grimace. 'Well, we'll just have to put them off-guard again then, shall we? Tell your people to get ready to move forward.'

'What?!'

'Trust me – oh, and anyone who's got keen hearing should be prepared to fight through a bit of discomfort for a few minutes. Oh, and tell 'em to keep casualties to a minimum. Set phaser to stun and all that.'

War or not, he didn't want more casualties in this than needed.

Mellan shot him an inscrutable look, but seemed to still be holding on to that inexplicable and foolhardy belief that the Doctor was some prophesized saviour, because he passed on the message in a series of gestures. It went through the surrounding ranks like a game of broken telephone, barked out in quick commands amongst those who shared a language, gestured to the rest.

Once the Doctor judged sufficient time to have passed for the message to circulate as widely as it could, he adjusted the setting on the sonic and braced himself.

The piercing, high-pitched frequency the sonic emitted would bother the Quiisojeana and any other species with superior hearing. The humans and some of the other species wouldn't even notice it, but everyone else would have to fight to ignore it.

Those who were expecting it, at any rate.

Almost immediately as the sound echoed in the underground cavern, the Quiisojeanans that filled the chamber faltered, some clutching their ears in pain, others dropping to their knees. It would only work for a few minutes – if the Resistance fighters with sensitive hearing could fight through the pain, so could their enemies – but it was disorienting enough to make a difference. The lull achieved what he had intended – the Resistance moved forward, sweeping through the crumbling enemy defence to disarm and round up to Quiisojeanans.

'That…went better than I expected,' Mellan said after they had secured the chamber and ensured that two of the passages from which the Quiisojeanans had been appearing wouldn't lead to more forces. He let out a harsh bark of laughter. 'If someone told me a week ago I'd be crazy enough not only to try to spring a prisoner from Song Prison, but working with him to carry out a full assault on the _ime_'s palace…Hell, twelve hours ago I wouldn't have believed it.'

'So why'd you bother today?' the Doctor had asked.

'I doubt I need to tell you this, but your girlfriend's pretty damn stubborn.'

The Doctor had scowled. 'Look, she's not my girlfriend.'

'Oh? Then what is she?' Although he didn't have any tone of voice, his expression conveyed challenging derision.

The Doctor started to complete the sign for "companion", but then hesitated, because he hadn't been sure what Rose was.

Which wasn't completely true. He'd had an inkling of what she might be since being trapped with her in a Cardiff basement, but it was a Gallifreyn concept that both didn't translate and also felt too vast – too frightening – to even entertain for a few picoseconds, let alone give form in speech. Even now his mind shied away from it, refusing to think it or put it into any real terms because doing so felt like he was implicitly accepting it – giving it legitimacy.

And that concept, that idea, he didn't deserve anything like that.

Never mind deserving, he had no right to put any such burden created by his damaged psyche on her shoulders.

And so at Mellan's expectant look, he simply signed, 'She's Rose,' and left it at that. It explained everything to him without having to think about it too much, and that's all that mattered. He didn't care who understand that or not.

However, oddly enough, Mellan looked at him shrewdly.

'I know the feeling,' he finally said. 'Rai's the exact opposite of everything I ever wanted or expected, and I should hate him because of what he is. Because of what his kind did to my…' His fingers stuttered and he trailed off, anger sparking in his eyes, before shaking his head. 'But he's Rai.'

And it wasn't completely the same, but still the Doctor had to admit perhaps the hot-headed Resistance Leader understood him better than he'd like.

Rather than admit that to him, however, the Doctor busied himself with the readings the sonic was putting out

'It's that way,' he said gruffly, nodding at the left-most doorway in the chamber. 'Least that way's got the least amount of rock interference between here and the language field generator.'

'After you,' Mellan signed, a sardonic smirk on his face.

The front-guard went ahead of him of course, but there was a palpable sense of respite among the rebels; like an exhalation after being forced to hold one's breath for an indeterminate amount of time. A sense that just maybe things were going to turn out alright.

The Doctor found himself lulled into that hopeful sentiment as well as they neared what he recognized as the entrance to a prison containment area like the one he had escaped. From the distance, he could make out the edge of the viewscreen used to televise the executions, as well as the edges of some cages.

He quickened his step and motioned for Mellan to follow him, intent on getting to that area and freeing the innocent from the tiny holding cells they had been forced into. He wished he could tell them in words that they were free now, but he was still handicapped by the language barrier and –

Upon arriving within the prison area, he felt his knees go weak.

An anguished cry echoed in the air, and only when he felt the rasp of his vocal chords did he realise it had been torn from his own throat.

The cages in the room were completely filled with aliens of every different variety, some – as the Doctor had surmised earlier – definitely specimens of rare or extinct species.

They were all dead.

Every one, in each cage, was lying on the floor of their respective cage, unmoving and surrounded by the smell of burnt flesh.

Further inspection showed why. Someone – a Quiisojeanan, it appeared, judging from the burnt corpse still holding the switch mechanism – had hooked up a crude current through all of the cages, electrocuting every living thing within the cages.

_Probably to keep them from being freed or joining the rebellion_, the Doctor thought numbly. _Or both._

He noticed movement beside him and turned to stare at Mellan. The human was looking at the scene before them with a neutral expression, though his eyes showed he wasn't as emotionless about it as he pretended to be.

'This probably isn't the only one,' Mellan said slowly, like he was putting careful effort into not allowing his fingers to shake. 'I bet the minute we took the lower levels, they set about destroying every prison block in this place. We could check them, if you want, but it would waste time. Time that the monsters who did this get to keep breathing.'

The Doctor didn't reply, instead shutting his eyes for a moment against the devastating sight.

He hadn't seen something like this since the War. And at least the Daleks, the hated abscesses on the universe, were honest about their intentions. Extermination, plain and simple, and over in one blast. They didn't dress it up, they didn't pretend a conscience they didn't have –

He tightened his grip on the sonic, knowing Mellan was right, and that he had a choice to make. Either comb the catacombs, look for each prison block where they had captured the innocent people that had been captured here, hope against blighted hope that it was only this block that had been disposed of like this –

Or go after the perpetrators and make them pay.

The Doctor opened his eyes, decision made, and barely noticed Mellan flinch away from him.

With a quick, blunt gesture, he ordered, 'Let's go. Don't fall behind.'

And he stalked down the space that ran between the cages of the dead.

Those resistance members that had come to assess the chamber before he and Mellan had entered, to ensure no enemies were hiding there, they now backed away from him as though worried of being swept up in his wake.

He could feel the flux of time around him, decisions and turning points having coalesced into the present he was in now. He was dimly aware of moving through the tributary at the edge of the room, the one which the guards used to drag their terrified prisoners out into the open arena where they would be tied to a stake and murdered. With every step, he could hear the echoes of their screams and the clawing of their appendages on the ground as they strove for purchase, trying to prolong the inevitable.

As he stepped out of the dark underground and onto the barren soil of the arena, he distantly noticed that it was full once more. Not with spectators this time, but with formations of guards, probably at least a hundred of them at low count. They were teaming from the other exits and entrance ways, some on their knees with their halberds out, others beginning to advance with their shock batons.

Mellan was beside him, signing something, and other resistance members were barking orders, no doubt preparing for the onslaught – or a slaughter. He didn't really pay attention, because he suddenly found himself within feet of the damned stake in the middle of the arena.

Even from this distance he could see the countless depressions within it, where the murderous spikes would burst out and into the helpless victims. He remembered the marmoset girl being dragged across the ground, fastened to it even as she struggled. His vision flickered for a second, and he was for the smallest increment of time able to see every poor soul that had been chained to that pole to die. The residual psychic and spiritual energy was strong enough that he didn't even need the timelines to see it, and that brought an acrid taste to his mouth.

The rage was back, flaring up again despite his earlier attempts to bank it.

Dimly he was aware of a collective intake of breath, a sharp sense of unease and a wave of fear radiating at him not only from the murderers in front of him, but the men and women who had entered the arena with him. That should have bothered him, and would have under normal circumstance.

He felt the words "no more" hiss in his mind, and felt the merciless man he had been return. In this second, letting the Quiisojeana live for what they had done seemed too easy, and a doctor was the last thing he wanted to be right now.

The Doctor's anger filled him from the inside out, a towering thing that escaped his shields and every other defence he had been building up for so long. The empathic species near him recoiled, many refusing to come near him, but he ignored them. He had a purpose to fulfil.

Stepping out of the Resistance formation, he brandished the sonic with grim resolve, and flicked a setting he had only ever used once before.

Gallifreyan technology was a wonder in its own right, but this particular tool was his, had been improved upon and honed over centuries. To work, it involved a complex telepathic interface and the will of the user. Oh, there were settings in it – countless, mind-boggling effects it could cause – but each one was dependent on the focus of the person behind it. And right now, that person was the Doctor, and he was feeling very focussed.

And angry.

And so the setting to weaken the molecular bonds between atoms didn't simply cause a nearby stone wall to crumble. The sonic wave radiated outward and away from the Doctor and the Resistance, dissolving those bonds within the barren, stone ground upon which the enemy army was gathered.

He watched it begin to crumble beneath their feet, like sand, and heard their surprised, terrified cries as they realized what was about to happen.


End file.
